


Time For You and Time For Me

by patster223



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Ableism, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Neighbors, Camp Counselor AU, Exhibitionism, Hermann can sculpt, Hermann has tattoos, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Masturbation, Necromancer AU, Other AUs not listed, Pokemon AU, Robot AU, Sexual Content, Sharing Clothes, Space AU, Trans Character, Trans Hermann Gottlieb, Trans Newton Geiszler, Transphobia, Valentine's Day, superhero au, swearing kink, video games - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-21
Updated: 2015-09-19
Packaged: 2018-04-16 11:50:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 36
Words: 29,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4624278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/patster223/pseuds/patster223
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of Newmann prompts that I've filled on my tumblr. Contains: AUs, pining, flirting, bickering, several chapters of Hermann's filthy exhibitionist kink, and two nerds learning to love each other in as many ways as possible.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Pokemon AU

**Author's Note:**

> I'm FINALLY posting all my [tumblr prompt fills](http://patster223.tumblr.com/tagged/maddie+writes) onto here. I probably should have spaced out posting them, but I just wanted to have it all done. I will post warning tags as needed for each chapter. These will be largely unedited from how they were posted on tumblr, so if there are any mistakes (or just not amazing writing), that's my bad. This first one was originally published 1 July, 2014. It's been over a year since then, and I owe so much to Pacific Rim and its fandom.

“This is your fault,” Newt groaned. “This is completely your fault.”

His accusation was only met by the betrayed gaze of the Dragonite sitting on the ground beside him. Iggy whined and shook his head in response to Newt’s allegation.

“No, it is! You’re the one who wanted that last pot of coffee!” Newt said, stroking his temples in discontent. “Fuck, I can’t think anymore.”

From across the lab, Hermann huffed in annoyance. “If you would stop feeding him caffeine, perhaps you wouldn’t continue to encounter this entirely solvable problem,” he pointed out. Emmy prodded him gently in the side and gestured at the chalkboard, and Hermann gave a nod of thanks to the Gardevoir before correcting the equation she’d indicated.

“But he likes it,” Newt said, patting Iggy’s stomach. Iggy purred in approval, but the sound turned into a whine when Newt pulled his hands away to rub at his face.

“Get off,” Newt said, pushing Iggy away when he tried to butt his head against Newt’s. “I have a headache, dude.”

Hermann growled. “Oh, for heaven’s sake – you’re _children_ , both of you. Emmy, if you don’t mind.” He gestured to the upset biologist and his Pokemon, and Emmy nodded.

“Um. What? Herm, what is she doing?” Newt said, headache momentarily forgotten as the Gardevoir approached him. He’d figured out early on that though Emmy initially seemed as dramatic and standoffish as Hermann, she was far more forgiving of his antics than her trainer – however, that didn’t mean that Newt found her any less intimidating.

“She wants to use Calm Mind. She does it occasionally for me when I have a migraine, and….well, she obviously does not _have_ to do it if you do not wish it, but I merely propose it as an option,” Hermann sniffed, turning his back to them all.

Emmy was now standing directly in front of Newt, only looking at him expectantly as she waited for his permission to continue.

Newt looked from her to Hermann’s back. He could feel his heart tentatively picking up its pace as a smile spread across its face. It was probably for the best that Hermann had decided that he was done with the spectacle, because if his back weren’t turned, he would have witnessed Newt’s embarrassing blush – which Gardevoir _did_ see, given the raise of her eyebrow, which only made Newt blush more.

“Hermann, you sap! You really do like me,” Newt said cheekily, willing his cheeks to stop heating.

Hermann seemed to hunch in on himself as he said stiffly, “Hardly. I simply would like a _quiet_ working environment for once.”

Newt rolled his eyes – as long as it’d taken him to figure out that Gardevoir wasn’t as inhospitable as she seemed, it had taken him even less time to deduce the same of Hermann. Newt’s head was pounding far too much for him to call the other man out on it though, so he only turned to Emmy and said, “Sure. Do your thing, girl.”

Gardevoir hummed in _some_ sort of expression of emotion – Newt had trouble reading her sometimes, but going from the way Hermann stiffened from across the room, it must have been something interesting – before gently laying her hands on his face.

Newt’s eyes immediately slipped close in bliss. The caffeine had left his mind a jittering mess, turning his thoughts into a vibrating, blurred noise against the inside of his skull. But as Emmy’s psychic energy flowed through him, he could feel those same thoughts slowly smoothing themselves out, allowing his mind to calm.

“Mmm,” Newt said when Emmy lifted her hands away. He felt a bit sleepy, but most of all, he felt grounded. Like now he could manage to think his way through a full sentence without getting snagged on stray thoughts that caught him along the way. “Thank you,” he yawned.

He opened his eyes and found that Emmy was dropping her hands from Iggy’s face, having performed the same move on him as well. The Dragonite had drawn even more contentment from the treatment than Newt had; his entire body was relaxed and loose after Emmy’s kindness. Iggy openly stared after Emmy as she walked away.

Newt groaned. The Pokemon practically had _hearts_ in his eyes for God’s sake. That just was not fair. It was one thing to have to share a lab with Hermann Gottlieb –  it was something entirely different to have to share that lab while one’s Dragonite was stupidly head-over-heels for his Gardevoir. “You’re way too good for her, dude,” he whispered.

At Iggy’s insistent shake of the head, Newt admitted, “Okay, but they’re still way out of our league- _she. She_ is way out of _your_ league.”

Iggy snorted in disbelief, playfully nudging Newt’s shoulder before curling up at his feet. Newt sighed and scratched the Dragonite behind his horns. He watched as Emmy placed a hand briefly on Hermann’s shoulder, how the man in question relaxed under her touch and even gave the Gardevoir a glowing smile.

Newt sighed again. Yeah, Iggy might have it bad for Emmy, but Newt _definitely_ had it worse for a certain mathematician.


	2. Newt Geiszler's PG Swearing Kink

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "You forgot to say the magic word." In which Hermann swears and Newt likes it a little bit too much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted 2 July, 2014.

This was absolutely the last straw. Hermann could handle Newton’s loud, obnoxious music; he could handle, and sometimes even appreciate, the scratchy laughter that came from the other of the lab; hell, he could even deal with Newton inappropriately – and, drat it all, successfully – propositioning him during yesterday’s lunch break. But there were some things that Hermann could not stand for.    
  


“Get your disgusting Kaiju entrails off of my side of the lab!” he yelled, fuming when Newton’s only response was to roll his eyes. Hermann was a _doctor_ , for God’s sake — he deserved more respect than that.

Which explained why, when Newton sang “You forgot to say the magic word!” to him, Hermann only responded by muttering, “Is it ‘go fuck yourself?’”

Across the lab, Newton stilled. Hermann privately wondered whether he’d gone too far, as the other man wasn’t even teasing Hermann over the fact that ‘fuck you’ was two words and not one.

He approached the biologist with the intention of apologizing for his language, but as he got closer, he could see that Newton didn’t seem particularly upset. In fact, he seemed quite the opposite: his face was happily flushed, his eyes were dark and bright, and his mouth was parted in a small smile.

Hermann sighed. “Please tell me you’re not getting off on us arguing.”

Newton reddened even further. “No! I mean, I could if that’s something you’re into-” at Hermann’s raised eyebrows he hastily continued “-but it’s more just…you don’t swear, dude. _Ever.”_

Hermann lowered his head in shame. “I do apologize for that, Newton. You quite vexed me and I maintain that you _must_ manage your side of the lab better, but that still does not excuse- wait…You find my _cursing_ to be appealing?”

It was Newton’s turn to look at the ground. “It’s kinda sexy,” he mumbled sheepishly.

“Unbelievable,” Hermann said, but a smile played at his lips at this new discovery. He and Newton had been together for only a few weeks, so the thought that Newton found him sexy at _all_ was still a novel one – let alone the fact that Hermann simply saying a particular word could be a turn on for the other man.

He placed his hands on Newton’s hips and kissed him. It was more of a prolonged peck on the lips than anything else – Hermann certainly wasn’t going to be the one to start any lab shenanigans, he was _supposed_ to be the professional one – but when he pulled away, Newton was grinning brightly.

“So this means sex during our lunch break, right?” Newton breathed.

Hermann gave an exasperated huffed, but leaned in to whisper into Newton’s ear: “We have _work_ to do, you excitably fool. Now kindly…fuck off and clean up your Kaiju organs, and I’ll meet you in your room at nineteen hundred hours.” Consciously swearing brought a vicious blush to Hermann’s face. He felt absolutely ridiculous trying to use those words, but the way that Newton’s jaw dropped in response was worth the embarrassment.

“Oh, what do you know, that _was_ the magic word,” Newton said with a grin, pecking Hermann on the lips before moving the entrails to his side of the lab. Hermann chuckled and smiled fondly at Newton before returning to his equations.


	3. Work Those Jeans, Hermann

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "can we pretend I didn’t just say that?" and "That's a good look for you." In which Hermann wears jeans and Newt appreciates it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted 3 July, 2014.

When Newt walks into the lab, he’s pretty sure that he has a sudden and massive heart attack. There is literally no other explanation for the way that his heart is now racing in his chest, the way he’s immediately short of breath, the way his hands suddenly feel grossly sweaty.

Or there _is_ another explanation, but Newt absolutely refuses to accept it, because there is no _way_ that Hermann Gottlieb wearing a pair of jeans should rile Newt up this much. He does not have it _that_ bad for the man.

His denial goes out the window when he sees that Hermann’s wearing a ratty band t-shirt as well. _Shit shit shit. Abort mission, Go to Bunk, Do Not Pass Go, Do Not Collect $200, Do Not Snog Your Hot Lab Partner—_

“Would you stop your staring!” Hermann snaps.

Newt tries, he truly does. But- “Dude, since when do you even _own_ a pair of jeans? Or a t-shirt for that matter?”

“I own jeans,” Hermann says defensively. “I simply don’t wear them to work because, unlike some people, I have a professional appearance to maintain. However, the laundry machine is broken and I had to make due. And for the record, the shirt isn’t mine, it belonged to my…” Hermann immediately stops in his tracks and begins to stammer, embarrassed.

Newt’s jaw drops slightly because Hermann is wearing a men’s shirt — did Hermann just imply that he once had a _boyfriend_ , and what’s more, a boyfriend whose shirts he stole?

Newt is _not_ equipped to handle this information. Nor is he equipped to handle the sudden jealously that overtakes him as he resents the fact that it isn’t _his_ shirt resting on Hermann’s chest right now.

It seems that Hermann is not exactly equipped to handle this situation either, for the man turns beet red before snarling, “Don’t you have better things to do than to make fun of my attire?”

Newt’s instinctual response would be to say _Not really_ and let an argument hash out from there. But instead he finds himself smiling as he looks over Hermann again. While the other man’s legs are practically non-existent in his over-sized slacks, Newt can now see just how long and lean they are. The same goes for Hermann’s arms, his torso – Hermann’s body has a _shape_ when he isn’t valiantly trying to hide it, and it is a shape that Newt very much wants to see more of.

So Newt just shakes his head and says, “I’m not trying to make fun of you, Herms. That’s a good look for you.”

Hermann frowns. “I don’t need your sarcasm today, Newton.”

“No, it’s really a good look! Like, _really_ good. Like, holy shit, your ass is amazing and-” Shut up, shut up, _shut up_. Newt hides his face in his hands and groans. “Can we pretend I didn’t just say that? I think that would be for the best.”

Hermann gives a thoughtful hum and then, astonishingly enough, says, “I’m not sure it would be.”

Newt looks up, expecting to see Hermann upset and ready to file a sexual harassment complaint, but instead the man is shyly staring at his desk.

Hermann takes a deep breath and says, “Forgive me if I’m reading this wrong, but would you like to…go out to dinner sometime, Newton?”

Okay, Newt _better_ not be having a heart attack this time, because the float-y sensation in his chest and the sweat on his palms are a-okay with him right now if that means that Hermann Gottlieb is really asking him out. “Like…like a date?”

If Hermann was beet red before, Newt’s not sure _what_ part of the color spectrum could describe his face now. However, Hermann only stands up straight and gives him a swift nod. “If you would be amenable. I have to warn you, I would be wearing slacks once again,” he says, almost playfully.

Newt’s voice squeaks when he says, “Okay!” but, you know what. He really doesn’t care. Because the mental image of Hermann wearing one of his t-shirts is now a tentative reality. “I really dig your grandpa clothes anyway,” he admits.

Hermann mouth opens and closes again – he doesn’t seem sure whether that was a compliment or a veiled insult. But he only nods and murmurs, “Thank you,” before returning to work.

Newt sighs happily, openly admires Hermann’s ass – because he’s pretty sure he can _do_ that now – and gets back to work as well. Thank God for broken laundry machines.


	4. Halloween Shennaigans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "Stop trying to cheer me up!" and "Where the fuck did that clown come from?" In which Newt picks out Hermann's Halloween costume, and unfortunately, also his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted 3 July, 2014.

Hermann did not like parties. Contrary to popular belief, this did not make him a “grumpy buzzkill,” as Newton had once phrased it. Hermann simply found it easier to socialize when he actually _knew_ the people surrounding him, and when conversations didn’t have to be shouted over a din of godawful music.

The only reason he’d bothered to attend the Shatterdome Halloween party in the first place was as a favor for Newton, but now he couldn’t even _find_ the insufferable man.

“You look like you’re having fun.” Tendo said as he joined Hermann the punch table. Hermann supposed that the other man was supposed to be some sort of hipster vampire, and although the aesthetic was confusing, he couldn’t deny that Tendo pulled it off.  

“Do I?” Hermann muttered darkly, taking another sip of his sickeningly sweet – and, he suspected, alcoholic – drink.

“Nah,” Tendo said with a smirk. “But hey, you make a decent pirate.”

Hermann scowled and begrudgingly adjusted his skull-and-cross-bones hat. “Newton picked it out for me,” he said. “And thank you for the courtesy, but I’m quite aware of how ridiculous I look.”

Tendo shrugged. “Wasn’t courtesy, man. In fact, I’m pretty sure Newt picked that out just so he could ogle you in leather.”

Hermann had no doubt that that was the _exact_ reason this outfit had been selected, but before he could say as much, Tendo choked on his drink. Hermann awkwardly patted him across the back until Tendo’s coughing ceased.

“Where the fuck did that clown come from?” Tendo laughed once he’d caught his breath.

Hermann looked out into the dance floor to see that there was, indeed, a man wearing white face makeup, lipstick, and rather baggy clothing that Hermann supposed could be considered clownish – it was certainly baggy enough. The man was dancing wildly in the crowd, jostling more than a few people as he moved, but spotting Hermann’s gaze, he waved frantically at him.

“Hey, Hermann!”

Oh dear God. “I’m afraid that is _my_ clown,” Hermann groaned, as Newton approached them both.

“Isn’t this party awesome?” Newton said, happily flushed beneath his makeup from the exertion of dancing.

“Oh yeah,” Tendo said, putting at least a _little_ bit of effort into not laughing – though he certainly wasn’t very successful. “A party clown, huh? Can’t say I saw that coming.”

“Huh? Oh, you mean my costume,” Newton said, picking at his baggy pants. He frowned. “I’m not a party clown, dude.”

Tendo raised an eyebrow. “What are you then?”

Newton grinned. “Uh, duh, I’m a _scary_ clown! You know, like the Joker!”

This time it was Hermann’s turn to stifle laughter. While it was true that Newton had put together the essential components for a frightening clown costume – thick eyeliner, dark and rumpled clothes, and a truly astonishing amount of (hopefully temporary) hair dye – the effect was simply ruined by…by, well, _Newton_. The man was practically jumping in place in glee and his eyes were bright with excitement: he was simply far too _happy_ to pull off anything so sinister as a Joker costume.

Eventually, however, Hermann managed to strangle his amusement and seriously say, “It’s marvelous, dear.”

Tendo snorted, but thankfully Alison got his attention before he could say anything more, and soon only Newton and Hermann were standing at the punch table. And despite the fact that Tendo hadn’t managed to voice any of his dubiousness aloud, Newton still pouted at Hermann.

“Do I really look like a party clown?” Newton said.

Hermann hesitated before shaking his head. “No, of course not…You’re, er, the spitting image of one of those terrifying horror film clowns.” At Newton’s insistent frown, Hermann added, “You are truly more horrifying than ever, Newton. And that includes last week when you attempted to stick fifteen pieces of stringed cheese in your mouth.”

Newton groaned at Hermann’s brittle attempt at reassurance. “Stop trying to cheer me up! You suck at it,” he said, but his pout was slowly being replaced by a smile. “Fine, I’m not a scary clown, you guys win. Maybe next year I’ll get it right, huh?”

Hermann hadn’t spent a significant amount of time putting a costume together since college, but he decided that next year might be the time to relearn the craft, if it meant helping Newton find something more reasonable. “If it makes you feel any better, you managed to put together something practical for me,” Hermann said. “Even if the leather is rather unnecessary.”

“On the contrary: I think the leather is _very_ necessary,” Newton murmured. He brushed a hand across Hermann’s trousers – which was not something that should be happening in a crowded room, as they truly left nothing to the imagination – and brushed a kiss against Hermann’s ear. “Want me to help you get out of that thing?”

Hermann breathed a sigh of relief. Finally, they could leave. But- “You’ll have to take this white stuff off,” he said, dragging a finger slowly down Newt’s face. “Otherwise nothing will happen tonight.”

“ _Fine_ , but…Wait. Does this mean that the eyeliner and lipstick can stay?”

Hermann’s stomach flipped and he breathed, “Oh, they can most _definitely_ stay.”


	5. Sick!Hermann

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "stop trying to cheer me up!" In which Hermann has a cold and Newt tries his hand at caretaking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted 3 July, 2014.

“Do you want soup?”

Hermann sighed. “No.”

“How about some water?”

Another sigh. “No.”

“Okay, um…how about your meds, have you taken those? Or I could pick you up some flu medicine…”

One final sigh, but this time an exasperated, “Newton!” followed it. Hermann pinched the bridge of his nose and Newt felt guilty for stressing the guy out even more.

“I’m sorry, I’m not trying to badger you, dude!” Newt said, maybe a touch more petulantly than a good caretaker would. “But you’ve been miserable all day and I just want to help!”

“I don’t _want_ help,” Hermann said waspishly. “I just want to lie here on the couch and-”

“And what, feel miserable?” Newt scoffed. “No can do, Herm. And besides, the soup was, uh, more of a rhetorical question anyway, because it’s already almost done.”

“Fine,” Hermann said. He was no doubt attempting an irritated tone of voice, but it instead came out clogged and weary. “Fine, just get me the soup and be done with it then.”

Newt tried not to scream – Hermann could be a bit difficult on the best of days, let alone when he was sick and exhausted – and ladled out the soup into a bowl. As he was giving it to Hermann, however, an idea came to his mind. Newt whipped around and crossed the living room, bowl still in hand.

“Newton! Give me my soup,” Hermann pouted.

“Oh, so _now_ you want it? Relax, you’ll get it. I just thought of something you might like.” Newt brandished the DVD that he’d finally dug out of their collection. “It’s that boring ‘mathematicians of Britain’ thing that you’ve been wanting to watch! And which I may or may not have been hiding for the past few months, but that doesn’t matter. Come on, watching this will get you the bed rest you need _way_ faster than any cold medicine could.”

Hermann scowled. “Your idea of taking care of me is to return a DVD which you stole from me months ago?”

“And soup,” Newt said sheepishly. “I’m doing my best, okay?” He quickly stuck the DVD in the player and draped a blanket over Hermann before giving him the bowl. Newt waited a few moments until Hermann gave a weary nod of his head, and then gladly burrowed underneath the blankets to sit next to Hermann.

“Cozy? Got your soup? Your medicine? Ready for the movie?” Newt said.

“Stop trying to cheer me up!” Hermann complained, but ate an obliging mouthful of soup before resting his head against Newt’s shoulder. Despite Hermann’s begrudging tone, Newt could hear the sigh of relaxation he gave when the documentary started.

Newt grinned. Oh yeah. Even when it came to caretaking, he was _still_ a rockstar.


	6. Valentine's Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "please stay" with an additional request for cuteness so potent it could make someone cry. I did my best ;) In which Newt tries his best on Valentine's Day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted 4 July, 2014.

Hermann came into work to find his desk covered with cacti and immediately knew that Newton was the one responsible for the mess. Of _course_ he was — who else would have the nerve to infiltrate Hermann’s space with desert plants?

“Newton,” Hermann sighed, already somewhat resigned to whatever the day would hold. “I do _not_ appreciate these plants converging on my workspace!”

“They’re not just plants!” Newton protested, having the audacity to seem offended at Hermann’s less-than-glowing response to the garden covering his desk. “They’re _cacti_.”

“Fantastic. I’m going down to breakfast; you have a half an hour to clean this up or I’m filing a complaint,” Hermann said, already turning his back to the scene.

He could hear Newton’s snort behind him: “Oh, another _complaint_ , because those have always worked out great.” This was followed by a curse and, much to Hermann’s surprise, a hand on Hermann’s arm.

“Shit, wait,” Newton said. “Please stay. I got the cacti for you, okay?”

Hermann’s brow furrowed. “…Yes. I’m aware. And I told you that you have a half an hour to remove them.”

“No, I mean I got them _for_ you. Like _for_ you, for you,” Newton insisted.

Hermann became suddenly conscious of his heart beating in his chest; the sound rang uncomfortably loud in his ears. “Why?” he said, trying to keep down the hope expanding in his chest.

Newton looked at the ground and shrugged. “It’s Valentine’s Day,” he said. “I wanted to get you something.”

Hermann couldn’t help but laugh, the sound equal parts relief and happiness bubbling up inside him. “So you decided to wrangle up a dozen _cacti_ as a Valentine’s Day gift?”

Newton gave a tentative grin at Hermann’s response – perhaps his heart was fluttering just as violently as Hermann’s own. “I guess it’s not that romantic, but you’re allergic to flowers, dude! You didn’t leave me with many options here.”

Hermann wanted to look Newton in the eye, but he couldn’t tear his gaze away from the other man’s hand. It was calloused and small and Hermann wanted nothing more than to reach out and touch those fingers with his own.

 _I can probably do that now_. Hermann swallowed heavily, but felt a wide smile grace his lips as he slowly took Newton’s hand in his own. The palm was indeed rough under his hand. Hermann marveled at the texture of it underneath his own skin, and breathed out a giddy laugh when Newton’s fingers squeezed his own.

Hermann cleared his throat, but he couldn’t help but beam when he looked up to see Newton’s ecstatic gaze. Hermann stood there, smiling like an idiot for an unknowable amount of time before he finally managed to say, “I like chocolate.”

Newton giggled. “What?”

“For future, non-cacti Valentine’s Day gifts,” Hermann clarified. “I like chocolate.”

“Okay,” Newton breathed. His words were far surer with Hermann’s hand in his own, and he even gave Hermann a cocky grin before saying, “I can definitely do that. I know a pretty good ice cream place around here, actually, and they have _real_ chocolate – I’m pretty sure it might be black market chocolate? But whatever, they still have it. Wanna go there with me after work?”

“Black market…? Never mind. That would be…nice,” Hermann said, smiling. “But Newton?”

“Yeah?”

“The cacti are still on my desk.”

“Oh! Yeah. Alright, I’m sure we can find somewhere to put them,” Newton said, not seeming particularly rushed to do so. He was far too busy holding hands with Hermann and wearing a dopey grin on his face.

Hermann didn’t suppose that he was faring much better, but he couldn’t bring himself to mind.  Feeling daring with a desk full of Valentine’s cacti and a certain biologist’s hand in his own, Hermann pressed a careful kiss to Newton’s knuckles, basking at the awestruck look Newton gave him in return.

“I don’t suppose you want to get that ice cream now?” Newton said, pressing a playful kiss of his own to the palm of Hermann’s hand. Hermann couldn’t stop himself from sighing at the brush of Newton’s lips against his skin.

“It’s eight AM, Newton,” he said, regardless.

“Fine, fine, just checking!”

Hermann rolled his eyes and squeezed Newton’s hand one last time before helping the other man move the cacti off of Hermann’s desk. And if their hands occasionally brushed against each other as they worked, well – they were each other’s Valentines now, weren’t they? It was certainly allowed.


	7. High School AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "Are you flirting with me?" In which Newt and Hermann are in high school, and Hermann is not observant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted 5 July, 2014.

Transferring to an American school in his last year before university, Hermann anticipated having difficulty making friends – after all, he’d hardly had much luck before, and he didn’t see how being in a different country was supposed to change anything.

What he did _not_ anticipate was having the opposite problem: having a new ‘friend’ who would simply not _leave him alone_. Hermann could not have chosen a worse friend for himself if he tried, and not just because Newton Geiszler talked about nothing but biology and monster movies – and, for that matter, never stopped talking _period_.

The problem was that Hermann found Newton Geiszler — leather jacket-wearing, tattooed _Newton Geiszler,_ who really should not have been Hermann’s type but _was_ – unfortunately attractive. Hermann fumed to himself when his heart first stuttered in his chest upon Newton sitting next to him; he came to this school with the intention of getting his diploma and getting out of there, not having a _crush_. And perhaps the crush could have died out on its own, eventually, but Newton kept smiling at him and giving him casual touches and maybe even _flirting_ with him? And-

And, well. Needless to say, Hermann had a crush that didn’t seem to be going away anytime soon.

“Is he always so…tactile?” Hermann muttered to Tendo, after Newton had patted them both on the back before journeying to the cafeteria’s snack bar.

Tendo picked at his pasta and shrugged. “Pretty much, yeah.” He gave Hermann a wicked smirk. “He’s a bit moreso with you though, now that I think about it. He _lingers_ with you. Are you _ever_ going to ask him out, because God knows he’s taking _his_ time-”

“Please shut up,” Hermann said, his ears burning as Newton returned to them.

“What were you guys talking about?” Newton said, eyeing them curiously as he dug into his newly-acquired ice cream.

“Just the new lab partner assignments,” Tendo said easily. “I’ll be right back, gotta empty my tray.” The traitor then left the table with a _wink_ — Hermann had never felt so deeply betrayed.

If Newton noticed anything out of the ordinary, he didn’t show it, only licking at his spoon before saying, “Oh yeah! We got paired together, didn’t we, Herms?”

“I’ve told you not to call me that,” Hermann said, trying to hide the fact that he’d most _definitely_ noticed the fact that they’d been paired together, and had _definitely_ been thinking about nearly nonstop it for the past two class periods.

Newton waggled his eyebrows. “Looks like we can really get some chemistry done now, huh?”

And that, _that_ was the final straw. Because whether or not Hermann made a fool of himself by asking, he had to _know_ -

“Are you flirting with me?” Hermann demanded. His shoulders hunched and his ears burned when he realized that he’d spoken loudly enough to attract the attention of the lunch tables surrounding theirs.

Newton’s mouth slowly opened and the spoon dropped out of it. Hermann felt his face grow hotter.

“Uh. Yeah?” Newton said. “I thought you knew that. I mean, you were flirting back.”

“I was?” Hermann said. He wasn’t even sure he was _capable_ of flirting – could he have been doing so without realizing it?

Newton shrugged. “I assumed so. People don’t normally sound that flirty when they’re talking about covalent bonds.”

“Oh,” Hermann mumbled. He couldn’t believe it. Had he truly been flirting with _Newton_ over their science homework? How embarrassing.

“Do you want me to stop?” Newton asked.

Did he? It was embarrassing yes, but Hermann had grown to _like_ Newton even despite the irritating crush he harbored for the man, had grown to _like_ their occasional touches and their – apparently – flirty conversations.

“No,” Hermann said finally. “You may continue.”

The glowing grin and quick wink Newton shot him before licking his spoon made Hermann sure that he’d made the right decision. Perhaps this ‘crush’ thing wouldn’t be so terribly inconvenient after all.


	8. Work That Skirt, Newt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for transphobia and misgendering
> 
> Prompt: "Where the fuck did that clown come from?" In which shitheads are transphobic toward Newt, and Hermann shuts them down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted 5 July, 2014, edited prior to posting here to make this story adhere less to the gender binary.

From a neighboring table in the refractory, Hermann heard a chuckle and a muttered, “Oh man. Where the fuck did that clown come from?”

He frowned and looked up from his meal to see what had drawn such a spectacle. His stomach churned when he saw that it was Newt walking into the cafeteria.

Hermann admired the skirt that Newt wore – it was the one Hermann had gotten them for their last birthday, the one covered in patterns of swirling stars and galaxies. He smiled fondly at the sight, and at the dark lipstick Newt had chosen to match the skirt’s colors.

At the neighboring table’s continued snickers, however, his smile transformed into a scowl once more. He turned to the table and icily said, “Pardon me?”

The engineer in question who’d been speaking gave Hermann a sheepish grin. “Hey, didn’t mean to insult your boyfriend, Doc. Just, _wow_ , that’s quite some lipstick, isn’t it?”

“They’re my partner, not my boyfriend,” Hermann said shortly. “And yes, the lipstick is quite lovely. Though I’ll thank you not to notice it over Dr. Geiszler’s scientific prowess when their research on the Kaiju blue is what has _allowed_ your team to sufficiently reinforce the Mark-2’s armor and remain vital to the PPDC.”  
  
Hermann reflected that he probably could have handled that better, but at the moment he could manage little more than those words before standing up and abandoning his tray.

Newt frowned as Hermann approached him. “Pronouns?” Hermann asked, ignoring Newt’s questioning gaze.

”She/her today. What did you even say to that guy?” she said.

Hermann sighed. “He was being rather rude regarding your lipstick and I…fear I may have lost my cool again. I apologize.”

“I can’t believe I ever thought you were this cold-as-ice, emotionless guy,” Newt said with a roll of her eyes. “Wanna make out with me and give him a show?”

Now it was Hermann’s turn to roll his eyes. “I would rather make out with you because I adore that shade of lipstick on you,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to Newt’s lips before taking her hand. “But alas, we have work to do.”

Newt laughed. “You have lipstick on you now, dude.”

Hermann shrugged, finding that he didn’t quite mind the idea of having Newt’s lipstick on him. He smiled as he let Newt pick up a couple of donuts before leading them back to their lab.


	9. Anxiety Funtimes With Newt and Hermann

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "Please stay" with an additional request for fun/angst. In which Newt is having anxiety, and Hermann comforts him. Warning for feelings of anxiety.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted 5 July, 2015.

“Fuck!”

Hermann started from his work on the holo-projector and frowned, turning his head to scold Newton for whatever sort of nonsense he was getting up to on the other side of the lab. However, he when he found Newton with his hands on his hips, eyes closed as he faced a broken vial’s remnants on the floor, Hermann found that his mouth couldn’t quite formulate the words he’d meant to say – not when Newton seemed so drawn, when his eyes were squeezed so tight that he looked as though he were in pain.

“Hermann,” Newton said, voice strained. “If you are about to lecture me right now, I _swear-_ ”

“I was about to do no such thing,” Hermann said guiltily – for he’d certainly thought about it. But he pushed forward and said, “Are you okay? Did you hurt yourself?”

Newton shook his head, his eyes still closed. “No, I just dropped it, I’m…I’m fine.”

“And did that vial contain anything dangerous?”

“Jesus, I _told_ you, Hermann, it’s _fine_. I’ll clean it up later, if you could stop bitching and just give me _one_ -”

“Newton,” Hermann said, his mind made up as he turned off his holo-projector. “Come here. Let’s get you to the couch.”

Newton finally cracked an eye open just enough to shoot Hermann a confused glance. “What are you talking about, dude?”

“I’m talking about the fact that you haven’t had such much as ten hours of sleep in the past _four days_ ,” Hermann said. “I know you are under the impression that you’re doing the PPDC a service by neglecting yourself for your work, but you are, as usual, mistaken. So, if that vial is not something that immediately needs to be disposed of, then I insist that you sit on the couch and _rest_ , for pity’s sake.”

Newton blinked long and hard as he tried to process Hermann’s words, and that, more than even the horrifying bags under the other man’s eyes, clued Hermann in to just how sleep deprived Newton was. Normally Newton was refuting or arguing Hermann’s comments before they’d even been entirely voiced – this hesitation set Hermann’s mouth in a deep frown.

“I just can’t _think_ ,” Newton said, finally dragging himself over to the couch and fairly collapsing into it. “I can’t think because I can’t sleep, but I can’t sleep because my chest feels so _heavy_ that it’s keeping me awake _,_ and I feel like if I could rest it wouldn’t feel like that, but I just _can’t_ , I _can’t_ and-”

By now Newton’s breathing was shallow enough that Hermann felt the need to join him on the couch. Hermann’s heart seized as he saw Newton’s hands clench and shake around the couch’s fabric, as if in a desperate attempt to ground himself.

“Would it help if I were to touch you?” Hermann asked.

Newton’s eyes were clenched tight again, but he managed a short nod.

Hermann slowly set a hand on Newton’s arm and grimaced at his own awkwardness – this was hardly a comforting touch and Newton was still tense under his hand. _He needs you_ , Hermann thought firmly. _Be_ better _at this._

Slowly, so slowly, Hermann brought his hand up to rest at Newton’s hair, recalling how the other man prodded and pulled at it when he was close to panicking. Newton practically melted into the touch, his head sinking down to rest on Hermann’s chest.

“That’s good,” Newton murmured.

Hermann tried not to flush at Newton’s breath ghosting across his collarbone – now was really not an appropriate time to reaffirm the fact that he was attracted to his lab partner – and continued petting Newton’s hair. It was…soft. Not as soft as Hermann would have thought – _probably all of the blasted product he uses_ – and a bit greasy, but still nice. The faint, sweet smell of Newton’s hair product was right next to Hermann’s nose and it was all he could do not to inhale it.

Hermann could not help but relax into his motions just as much as Newton had. It was…soothing, to touch another person in this way. The constant, repetitive motion was enough to make Hermann’s eyes droop close, and he recalled that, while he certainly wasn’t as sleep deprived as Newton, it’d certainly been a few days since he’d gotten his fair share of rest.

“You can’t fall asleep,” Newton mumbled. “Then I’ll fall asleep.”

“I’m not going to fall asleep,” Hermann yawned. “But I’m not – move you’re elbow, it’s poking me — leaving you here until you’re better. I care far too much for you to do so.”

As Newton nuzzled into his chest and snuggled closer, Hermann reflected that perhaps he _was_ falling asleep – he certainly wouldn’t have shared that much about his affections had he been fully conscious. But Newton’s hair was still soft against his palm and his lips were just barely pressed to Hermann’s skin, so he could not bring himself to care.

“I like you too,” Newton said, his voice barely more than a murmur now. “Thank you for this.”

“Of course, dear Newton,” Hermann murmured back, letting his eyes slip fully close. “Of course.”

One final yawn and a whispered: “Goodnight, Hermann.”

Hermann smiled, letting himself breathe in the flowery scent of a certain biologist’s hair product before yawning: “Goodnight, Newton.”


	10. Hermann Gotlieb: Master Sculptor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "Hey, have you seen the…? Oh.” and "You want me to do what?” In which Newt finds out that Hermann likes to carve small wooden sculptures, and wants to be sculpted like one of his French...wood blocks? Newt isn't amazing at jokes all the time, okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted 6 July, 2014.

 “What are you doing rummaging around in my desk?” Hermann said.

Newt shrugged and continued to rummage. “Packing.”

“No, I…” Hermann sighed. “I know that you are _packing_. I am also packing. The Shatterdome is closing in less than two weeks – we are _all_ packing. What I mean to say is, _why_ is your packing happening on my side of the lab?”

“Well then _say_ that,” Newt said, rolling his eyes. Of course, he’d known what Hermann had meant from the start. But sharing a drift and then some bodily fluids together didn’t mean that Newt was going to let up on snarking at Hermann with all he had. Well…upon reflection, maybe he could stand to do it a _little_ less.

“I think some of my stuff wound up on your side of the lab,” Newt conceded. “Not surprising really, after ten years of sharing a workspace. _My_ only question is, did you take my shit-” Newt waved a handful of pens, buttons, and papers “-on _purpose_ or did it just _naturally_ migrate to your side of the room?”

“With the number of things you throw at my side of the room, I don’t know if there’s anything _natural_ about your paraphernalia’s migration,” Hermann muttered.

Newt was a gracious and loving boyfriend, and chose to ignore that comment. Or rather, he’d been gearing up to respond, but had gotten lost in trying to find his Tamagatchi before he could form a comeback. Going through the desk didn’t turn up any of Newt’s old toys — the little gadget was probably lost for good now. Shaking his head and moving onto the next item on his list, Newt said, “Hey, have you seen the…? Oh.”

Newt frowned as his hand stumbled upon a foreign object in Hermann’s bottom desk drawer – it felt smooth underneath his touch, like touching stone, but the texture was far softer. Pulling it out, his eyes widened: resting in his hands was a small Gypsy Danger carved into a wood block. Newt could tell that it wasn’t quite finished yet, but even the level of detail that’d been achieved already left Newt dumbstruck. He could practically see Danger’s individual gears, the glowing fire of her core brightening the room; he could feel her joints and battle scars.

“Dude,” Newt breathed. “Did you do this?”

Hermann snatched the wood carving out of Newt’s hand. “Don’t, just…don’t look, it’s not done,” Hermann said, worrying his thumb over the grain of the wood.

“Who gives a shit, it looks _awesome_!” Newt said, bouncing excitedly in his chair. “That must have taken hours! Or days!” Newt’s brow suddenly furrowed. “So what, you’re a secret artist but you decided to never bring it up to me? Not cool, man.”

“I’m not an artist,” Hermann said, finally looking up from Danger to scowl at Newt. “And it was hardly ever a secret. It was simply something to keep my hands busy. To keep me relaxed.”

Now that Newt thought about it, he could remember Hermann’s deep scowl and twitching hands when they’d both been pushed to their breaking points these past few years. Now he supposed that all Hermann had wanted in those moments was to push his fingers across a block of wood and use it to center himself, center his thoughts. Newt guessed they all had different methods of coping with stress — Newt had simply been unaware that this was Hermann’s.

He was thankful, at least, that the stress Hermann had to cope with now was more of the ‘have-to-get-this-lab-packed-up-before-the-Shatterdome-closes’ kind and less of the ‘oh-dear-God-the-world-is-ending’ variety.

“Will you do me?” Newt said, eyeing the beautiful replica in Hermann’s hand.

Hermann raised an eyebrow. “I’m sorry. You want me to do what? Please tell me you’re not propositioning me in the lab again, Newton, you know I won’t have it.”

“No! No, I’m not doing that, you- look, I’m just wondering if you’d want to make a carving like that of me? You know, ‘draw me like one of your French girls’ but….’carve me like one of your French girls?’ On second thought, never mind, horrible reference, and you don’t _have_ to if you don’t want to but…” _But this is a side of you I didn’t know before and that’s not_ fair, _I want to know every part of you, every part that the drift didn’t show me._ But Newt couldn’t manage to articulate that particular blend of emotion, not when his brain was still buzzing slightly from hours of forced stillness and packing.

Whether Hermann understood his unvoiced motivations or not, the other man nodded his head. “I would love to,” he said softly, a small smile playing at his face.

“Oh,” Newt breathed, relieved. “Cool, cool. So…not to freak you out, but have you seen any scalpels on your side of the lab?”

A few hours of bickering and arguing later, they both ended up in Hermann’s room, Newt lying down on the bed while Hermann sat at his desk.

“Shouldn’t I be sitting up for this?” Newt asked. “Or, like, nude or something?” He turned his head to the side and caught Hermann’s heavy swallow, his light blush.

“You’ve already been sitting for hours today, Newton. No need for you to do your posture any more injury by sitting it for several more,” Hermann said, coughing slightly. After he’d fully recovered, he managed a smirk. “As for the nudity – I don’t see any point in furthering your failed Titanic reference, do you?”

“Shut up, Hermann. But for the record: I knew you’d seen that movie,” Newt said, grinning as he turned his head back to the ceiling. “Hermann Gottlieb: Secret Movie Buff. You’re lucky I don’t tell everyone.”

“You may do as you wish,” Hermann said. He stood up and pressed a quick kiss to Newt’s lips before returning to his chair. “For you are mine for the next couple of hours. In fact, I’m glad I thought to lie you down: I shall enjoy capturing you in a moment of repose.”

Newt snorted, but closed his eyes as the thin scrap of Hermann slowly peeling the wood caught his ears. The sound was steady, reedy, and with it came the knowledge that at this moment, Hermann’s attention was solely focused on Newt. Newt could feel Hermann’s eyes on him, could feel him studying Newt and breathing life into the hunk of wood in his image.

Newt’s eyes closed. He could probably fall asleep there, modeling for Hermann Gottlieb, listening to the noise of his quiet, settling thoughts. Perhaps he would.


	11. Hermann's Tattoos Are Out Of This World

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "I’ll never unsee that." and ”Don’t make it into a big deal.” In which Hermann has tattoos.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted 7 July, 2014.

For some reason, Hermann seemed to think that Newt was overreacting here. Which Newt _obviously_ was not doing. Newt had been call ‘over-enthusiastic’ by some and ‘groupie’ by others, but it was literally impossible for him to overreact in this scenario because _Hermann Gottlieb had fucking tattoos._

“I’ll never unsee that!” Newt said, as Hermann pulled his shirt back down. They were both sitting on neighboring beds in medical, waiting to be cleared from any post-drift effects. Of course, those effects had been instantly pushed out of Newt’s mind as one of the doctors lifted the back of Hermann’s shirt to listen to the other man’s heartbeat – and revealed lines of bright ink against his back.

Newt hadn’t stopped freaking out since. Which, for some reason, Hermann thought was strange.

The man in question grumbled and said, “For heaven’s sake, Newton, it’s a _tattoo_. Don’t make it into a big deal.”

“Uh, I think it’s kind of a big deal that this entire time you’ve been criticizing _my_ tattoos, _you’ve_ had an entire canvas on your back!” Newt yelled.

“Yours are _barely_ tasteful – and even if they were, you still insist on showing them off to veterans who want nothing to do with them,” Hermann sneered. “Mine is at least inconspicuous.”

Newt could concede that his earlier moment with Raleigh Becket in the elevator had not been his wisest, but- no, he would not let Hermann distract him from this, he could _feel_ Hermann trying to distract him in the back of his skull where their connection lingered.

“What’s it of?” Newt said. “I saw just a bit of color and maybe a star, and…oh my God. Hermann.”

“Don’t.”

“ _Hermann_.”

“Stop.”

“You have a tattoo of _space_.”

“Be quiet!” Hermann said. His face was bright red against the pale fabric of his medical gown.

Newt couldn’t help but grin. “You are such a nerd.”

Hermann frowned at Newt for a long time, but finally sighed, defeated. “If I am, then so are you,” he said wryly.

“Yeah, I figured that one out without the drift, thanks. So, will you let me see it?” Newt said.

Before the drift, Newt’s question would have been met with a swift denial and perhaps a sharp tap with a cane. But now they’d shouldered each other’s neural load, had shared each other’s memories, had seen each other’s _tattoos_ – so Newt wasn’t surprised when Hermann nodded and lifted up the back of his gown.

Newt flushed a bit at the boxers underneath the fabric, but forced himself to focus on the tattoo. It was far more colorful than Newt would have imagined a tattoo of Hermann’s to be. Big swirling gases made of color wound across his back: whorls of blue, purple, black, red, white, yellow. All of them shone as they danced into patterns of the night sky, as they made way for shining pinpricks of glowing stars. As colorful and fantastical as the piece was, Newt had no doubt that the constellations depicted were accurate.

“I got it the night Trespasser hit,” Hermann said quietly. “Or I started it then. I was romantic enough to want to and impulsive enough to actually do it, back then.”

“Why the stars?” Newt said, tracing them with the tip of his finger. He felt Hermann shiver under his touch.

“Those were the stars that were in the sky that day,” Hermann breathed. “And I…I confess that after seeing monstrous beings come from the sea, I wanted nothing more than to turn to the sky for comfort.”

Newt’s heart ached for a young Hermann, for that Hermann who wanted so desperately for space to be his haven and his escape. “Can I kiss you?” Newt said, because he hadn’t lost any of the impulsiveness that Hermann had just admitted to once harboring.

“Can you…?” Hermann started. Newt could see the back of his head move up and down as he nodded. “Yes,” Hermann said. “You can do that.”

Hermann moved to turn towards Newt, but before he could, Newt pressed his lips against Hermann’s back, lightly kissing each individual star that he could reach. Hermann’s skin felt cool and smooth against Newt’s mouth. Newt sighed against the other man’s back and felt Hermann gasp at the sensation of breath against skin.  
  
He wanted nothing more than to taste each galaxy inked onto Hermann’s back, but reflected that medical was not the place to do this – though he could not help but lick at the swirl of purple on Hermann’s shoulder blade.

“They’re beautiful,” Newt murmured, before turning away from the stars on Hermann’s back and kissing the man himself instead.


	12. Clothes Swap

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "you can't possibly wear that." In which Hermann and Newt swap clothes and mock each other. And get turned on in the process.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted 8 July, 2014.

  
“You can’t possibly wear that,” Hermann said, after he begrudgingly lifted his face from the pillow to see what Newton was poking around in _this_ time. When they weren’t sleeping together or cuddling (or arguing), Newton seemed to prefer to spend his time poking around in Hermann’s room. Hermann could only hope that this was due to the novelty of their relationship, and not due to Newton being a snoop — though he had his doubts.  
  
Newton grinned and bore his pilfered sweater-vest proudly. “Why not? I think I look good.”  
  
That was precisely the _problem_. The sight of his sweater-vest against Newton’s skin made Hermann’s cheeks oddly hot. The vest and the shirt beneath it were too long in the arms, but they were baggy enough on Hermann in the first place that they fit snugly around Newton’s middle. Though the other man still looked more like he was playing dress up than getting ready for work, Hermann still couldn’t help but drink in the sight.

Hermann must have not managed to hide his leer, as Newton winked and added, “And so do you. You _like_ me in your clothes, Herm baby. Maybe I’ll actually go to work in these, huh? Let _everyone_ know what we’ve been up to.”  
  
“That’s it,” Hermann muttered, his cheeks burning. He got out of bed and picked up Newton’s shirt off the floor, raising a pointed eyebrow at the man before putting it on. Next he picked up the tie and draped it around his neck, cringing at the absurdly tight and messy knot. He hated the tie and the shirt left his mid-drift slightly bare, but he powered through and said snottily, “I’m Newton Geiszler, but call me Newt because I can’t bare to be called a respectable name when I’m so busy being quirky! Look at my stupid tie!”  
  
Newton visibly recoiled at Hermann’s horrible accent, and took a long moment before saying, “That was painful, man. _Painful._ “ His eyes narrowed. "But not as painful as _this_.” He put his hands on his hips and lowered his voice, shouting: “I’m _Doctor —_ not don’t forget the doctor, good man — Hermann Gottlieb, honorable mathematician of many years experience, now did I mention I’m a _doctor?_ Well, I am, of course, indubitably, yes sir, good day, now excuse me while I go eat out Newton Geiszler’s ass.”

Hermann’s face burned due to, a) Newton’s awful imitation, b) the fact that it wasn’t _technically_ speaking an inaccurate imitation, and c) his own, frustrating arousal at said imitation and at the sight of his clothes still on Newton’s body. “Alright, fine!” Hermann said, throwing his hands up. “Cease fire! Just, please, enough of that. See if your ass gets anything done to it again,” he muttered.

"Oh, thank God,” Newton breathed. “I wasn’t sure I could hear another comeback in your American accent. Okay, truce. We’re good now, right?”

“Of course.”

“Good. Good…”

They stood there for a long moment, looking at everything but each other. Hermann coughed awkwardly. “Um…Newton…”

“Are you really turned on right now?” Newton asked. At Hermann’s hurried nod, Newton sighed in relief and said, “Oh fuck yes, me too.”

And whether or not Newton looking through Hermann’s things was simply a phase, Hermann could hardly begrudge him for it at the moment. Not when Newton was busy ripping his sweater vest off and joining Hermann back on the bed.


	13. Movie Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: the prompter sent me Princess Bride quotes to choose from, but I ended up just having Newt and Hermann watch The Princess Bride.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted 16 July, 2014.

Newt stretched across the sofa, his head shifting so that it could rest more comfortably on Hermann’s lap. While cozy, this position also allowed him to poke Hermann in the belly when tell-tale snores sounded from above. “This is the best part,” Newt whispered.  
  
Hermann grunted at the jab of Newt’s finger against his ribs, but opened his eyes. The hand twined in Newt’s hair started moving once more, lazy fingers curling through the thick strands. Newt hummed in contentment.  
  
On screen, Wesley was kissing Buttercup while the narrator explained the purity and passion behind the gesture.  
  
Hermann raised an eyebrow. “This is your favorite part?” he murmured, probably still half-asleep. “I’d have thought you’d prefer the fencing.”  
  
“That’s cool too,” Newt said. “But it’s the happy ending, dude. You can’t beat a happy ending.”  
  
“Mmm. I suppose I cannot argue with you there,” Hermann yawned. Even as Newt watched the screen, he knew Hermann’s eyes were slipping shut yet again, the other man’s fingers slowing in Newt’s hair as he drifted off once more.That was alright by Newt. This, sitting together, showing Hermann one of his favorite movies, finally being able to relax without the question of the world’s fate plaguing them — this was more than enough.


	14. 3 Sentence AUs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I did a meme for 3 sentence AU fics and these are the results. Since they're only 3 sentences long, I just put them all in one chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted 31 July, 2014-1 August, 2014.

**Magic AU**

“You are, without a doubt, the most incompetent necromancer I’ve ever had the displeasure of knowing,” Hermann groans.  
  
Newton frowns at the animated Kaiju spirit before them — it’s playful for now, since Newton’s fused his magic with it, but he can see why Hermann would be concerned.  
  
“Does this mean I’m sleeping on the couch tonight?” Newton asks, taking Hermann’s responding sigh to be a very definite _yes._

 

**Homicide Detectives AU**

” _They_ are the new detectives?” Mako whispers, raising an eyebrow at the two men bickering over the body — Newton as he attempts to examine the stab wounds and Hermann as he attempts not to look at the body at _all._  
  
“Best forensic techs in the world when they’re not sniping at each other,” Pentecost says.  
  
Newton takes that moment to blow Hermann a kiss with the hand he’s been using to inspect the body and Mako cannot help but sigh as Hermann starts yelling: working with these two is sure to be interesting, to say the least.

 

**Hospital AU**

The short, scruffy doctor takes the thermometer out of Hermann’s mouth and, after checking it, says, “Maybe you should listen to me for once and get some _rest,_ Hermann – you’re pretty hot right now.”  
  
Hermann sways where he’s sitting and mumbles, “So are you.” He’s instantly mortified – he blames the fever, he truly does – but Dr. Geiszler only grins before writing his phone number down on the prescription pad.

 

**Bakery AU**

  
“Er, you have a little flour on your face,” Hermann mumbles, his face red for some reason – though it is pretty hot in here, with all of the ovens going.  
  
Newt’s busy kneading the dough, so he says, “Can you get it for me?”  
  
When he feels Hermann’s lips brush against his cheek, Newt only just manages to wipe his flour-covered hand on his face and squeak out, “Oh look, there’s more – mind helping me out again, Hermann?”

 

**Reality TV AU (more specifically, The Bachelor AU)**

“I still can’t believe you did the show,” Hermann sighs.  
  
“University funding wasn’t cutting it and I needed some cash – what’s your excuse?” Newton says, lacing their fingers together with a smile.  
  
“Money as well, mostly… though it seems that the universe decided to have a laugh at my intentions, given that I ended up leaving the show with a husband of all things,” Hermann says before kissing his fiance, grateful that he can now do so in the privacy of their own home, with not a camera in sight. 

 

**AU where they're both cats**

Hermann couldn’t believe that Pentecost had let in the stray in the first place, let alone that he’d decided to _keep_ the damn thing. Any attempts to ward off the small creature — _Newt_ , of all names for a cat — with a glare or a hiss were met with friendly nips to the ear, and Hermann soon resigned himself to the other feline’s company.  
  
“Lovebirds,” Pentecost chuckled, shaking his head as Newt pushed his way into Hermann’s space, settling down beside the other cat with a low purr.

 

**Teen summer romance AU**

“The water is cold,” Hermann murmurs, staring down at the small fish circling his ankles – he daren’t look up, he _must_ not look up, he _cannot_ look up-  
  
But he _does_ look up when Newton softly calls his name, only to find Newton standing right in front of him, his bare chest and stomach glistening with beads of lake water, his wet hair dripping onto his glasses, his eyes fixed upon Hermann’s blushing face.  
  
Newton screws his eyes shut and places a brave kiss to Hermann’s lips – and when he giggles into Hermann’s ferocious reciprocation, the sound is enough to leave Hermann’s heart pounding, enough to give him the courage to place a tentative hand at the small of Newton’s back and kiss him again. 


	15. Avatar: The Last Airbender AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not a prompt fill, but I did an art/fic exchange with [irishsparkleparty](http://irishsparkleparty.tumblr.com/) (aka cj), and this chapter and the next ones are the results. This is the fic I wrote that cj made [this drawing](http://patster223.tumblr.com/post/96050589300/irishsparkleparty-decided-to-prompt-each-other) in response to. Avatar: The Last Airbender fusion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted 28 August, 2014.

Hermann worries at the hem of his tunic, lips pursed in thought. Finally, he says, “I’m not trying to ignore this part of you, Newton, you must know that. That would be inexcusable of me. But firebending and I…well, we have never been the closest of friends.”

Newt’s eyes automatically drift down to Hermann’s leg. He winces at the shiny, puckered scars that mar the skin there.  “Shit, I didn’t even _think_ of that- Shit. Look, it’s not important-”

“Of _course_ it’s important,” Hermann says. “You’re my co-worker and…and my friend. If we wish to maintain both of those relationships, we simply cannot tiptoe around this any longer. Perhaps…if I close my eyes, I think I could try it. But you must stop the moment I tell you to do so, agreed?”

“Yeah, of course, man,” Newt says. “You’re in control here.”

Hermann thrusts out his cupped hands, squeezing his eyes shut. Newt carefully places his own hands palms-up in the hollow of the other man’s gesture. “You’re _sure-_ ” he starts, but Hermann interrupts him.

“ _Please_ just get it over with already. Contrary to what you might think, I _do_ trust you, Newton.”

Newt blinks in surprise as Hermann’s words ignite a warmth in his chest, one that sings and dances through his skin until it flows through his fingertips and into the air in a bright burst of flame.

Newt slowly breathes in and out, making sure he has absolute control over the fire swaying in his palms before he says, “Okay, I did it.”

Hermann slowly peels his eyes open, but any wariness in his expression vanishes the moment he sees the flame. “It’s blue!” he exclaims.

“Uh, yeah,” Newt says, doing his best not to blush. He’s never _tried_ blushing while firebending, but now doesn’t seem like an ideal moment to give it a go. “I’ve never actually…managed that before, heh. Nice.”

Hermann rolls his eyes. “Self-congratulations are as abundant as ever, I see.” But there’s a smile playing at his lips as he says it. And his gaze has not left the flame since he opened his eyes. “You know, it manages to be rather lovely, somehow,” he says after a moment of observing the fire’s dance.

“Uh…” Newt cannot contain his blush this time. The flame twitches happily at the added bit of heat. Newt’s entire being suddenly _aches_ as he watches the fire casts shadows and soft brushes of light onto the harsh angles of Hermann’s face. “Yeah,” he breathes. “Yeah, I guess it is.”


	16. Hermann Gottlieb's Bedazzled Cane

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The second part of an art/fic exchange with [irishsparkleparty](http://irishsparkleparty.tumblr.com/). This is a drawing I made in response to [this drawing that cj made](http://kaijumath.tumblr.com/post/96050325743/patster223-and-i-did-this-little-challenge-where-i). In which Hermann's cane is bedazzled, and Hermann is not amused.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted 28 August, 2014.

Newt clutched his stomach as he shook with laughter. He was vaguely aware of his hand flapping in Hermann’s general direction, but, for the life of him, he could not manage to get his limbs nor his breathing in order. “Oh God,” he wheezed. “Ha ha ha, oh  _God, please_ tell me you did that yourself, Hermann.” Anything else he wanted to say – and there were  _so_ many things he wanted to say – was overtaken by another fit of giggles.

Hermann’s eyelid twitched. “I fail to see what’s so funny,” he said flatly.

Newt had to take a few deep breaths to steady himself, but he finally managed to say: “Oh, you know  _exactly_ why I’m laughing. Your cane is  _bedazzled_ , dude.”

Hermann studiously did  _not_ look at the object in question. “Yes, well,” he said, a tinge of red appearing on his cheeks. He opened and closed his mouth several times as if wanting desperately to finish that sentence, but no words came of the action.

Newt didn’t blame the guy for being embarrassed.  _Newt_ would be a bit embarrassed if he had to carry around that thing, and he wasn’t half as uptight as Hermann was. Under the harsh light of the lamps on Newt’s side of the lab, the once sophisticated cane practically  _sparkled._ Its plastic gems and rhinestones seemed to glint merrily in the face of their new owner’s despair.

Said new owner was now quickly walking to his side of the lab, as if this conversation was at  _all_ over.

“Hey!” Newt said. “What’re you doing? You can’t just bring that thing in here and then not tell me the story behind it!”

“Of course I can,” Hermann said brusquely, as he turned on his computer monitors. “I’m doing it right now, in fact. Yet another Geiszler theory proven wrong.”

“Dick,” Newt growled. Of course Hermann had to go below the belt like that and jab him for his theories again. “Whatever, man, be an asshole about it if that’s what you want!”

“I’m not an asshole,  _you’re_  the asshole!” Hermann snapped. His eyes widened as he no doubt realized the – frankly  _astounding_ – immaturity that colored his words. “Well you are,” he muttered, violently poking at his keyboard. “Always bringing me down to your childish level, it’s unprofessional.”

Newt  _so_ had a retort ready for that, but then Hermann cast a guilty glance at his cane and – crap. Newt groaned internally. As if Hermann wasn’t  _already_ self-conscious about needing a cane, Newt had to go and make fun of it. He really _was_ the asshole. Or the bigger one at least.

“I like it,” Newt blurted out, wincing at his own nervous ineloquence. “Uh, I was just surprised by it, that’s all. I mean, no one expects Hermann Gottlieb to walk into a room carrying  _that_ , alright? But I don’t think it’s stupid or anything.”

Hermann cast a skeptical glance at Newt.

“Okay,” Newt amended. “It’s a  _little_ bit stupid. But, you know, not in a  _bad_ way…”

Whether or not Hermann understood the sentiment Newt was trying to convey, the tension in the other man’s shoulders lessened at his words nonetheless.

“Chuck Hansen and I had a disagreement about Striker’s latest malfunction,” he sighed. “He says it’s in the code, to which _I_ say that the  _simulators_ -”

“The simulators do not lie, and while the pilots have my  _utmost_  respect, this error lies with  _them_ , it simply  _must_ ,” Newt finished, rolling his eyes.

Hermann winced at Newt’s impression. “Well, it’s  _true._ Anyway, one rather heated argument later and it seems this is how he wished to get revenge.”

“He’s an angsty seventeen year old who still owns the bedazzle gun he had when he was twelve – you don’t test a guy like that, Hermann,” Newt said.  

“Regardless, until I can find the time to take them all off,  _this-_ ” Hermann indicated the gleaming cane “-is what I shall be walking around with.”

Newt shrugged. “Hey, it’s not the worst thing in the world. Once you get over how…”

“Don’t say funny,” Hermann warned. “I am not  _funny_ , Newton.”

“Like I’d ever accuse you of being that,” Newt said, though he couldn’t help but smirk at Hermann’s words. “Nah, dude, I was going to say that once you get over how… _unusual_ it is to see you hold it, it actually suits you!”

“Suits me?” Hermann scoffed.

“Yeah! It’s trying to be all professional and frumpy, but at the end of the day, it just can’t hide how fabulous it is,” Newt said with a grin. “Plus, from a distance those rhinestone things kind of look like stars! Space cane, Herms.”

The thing is, they’d known each other for so long by now that Newt knew exactly what to say when he wished to irritate, provoke – and yes, even  _please_ – Hermann. So though Hermann indignantly muttered, “I’m not ‘fabulous,’” Newt still noticed how the other man bit his lip to hide a smile, how he glanced up from his work to give the cane a considering look.

And…yeah, Newt was still  _definitely_ due for another giggle fit about that ridiculous thing later. But for now, he smothered his laughter and returned to his dissection, the memory of Hermann’s almost-smile cheering him as he worked.


	17. Robot AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not a prompt fill, but an art/fic exchange that I did with the amazing [blairrabbit](http://blairtrabbit.tumblr.com/). The stunning art that she made in response to this can be found [here](http://blairtrabbit.tumblr.com/post/98217420946/patster223blairtrabbit-art-and-fic-drabble-swap). Robot AU.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted 23 September, 2014.

“Did we lose them?” Newton wheezes. He’s doubled over, clutching at a stitch in his side as he struggles to breath.

Hermann isn’t sure why the android bothers. It’s not as if Newton actually _needs_ air. _That’s the fault of these newer models,_ he sighs to himself. _They keep forgetting they’re not human._

Hermann wonders what that’s like. He’s never really been able to forget: not with his unnaturally angular features, with the dull glow that radiates beneath his skin, with the circuit burns that crisscross underneath his hair. Anyone with a discerning eye and a decent knowledge of robotics can tell that Hermann isn’t human.

Newton, on the other hand, he’s _…_ well, he’s _beautiful_. His proportionate body, his radiant flush, his earthy smell: all of it is painfully human. A pang of something seizes inside Hermann’s chest – envy, perhaps? Technically possible, as Hermann’s model does have emotive capabilities, but-

“Hermann? Is there something wrong?”

Hermann shakes his head. When did he become so distractable?

“I’m just…taking inventory,” he lies, gesturing to the boxes of spare parts stacked behind Newton. “But you may rest assured: my bunker is the safest place in Hong Kong.” This is probably true. Hermann isn’t in the good graces of the government anymore, does not have access to the ‘Net — he can’t check the city’s surveillance systems to make sure that they’re _truly_ safe.

Newton seems to sense Hermann’s reticence. He purses his lips, once again alarmingly attuned to the idiosyncratic emotiveness of Hermann’s model. But then his gaze drifts downward and instead of refuting Hermann, Newton gasps. “Shit, they shot you.”

Hermann looks down and grimaces. Along his knee and calf his skin panels have been blown away; now circuits spark and half-melted metal oozes to a halt in the basement’s chill air. “Oh,” Hermann breathes.

“‘Oh,’ that’s all you have to say? Jesus, they must have knocked out your pain receptors too – those will be _such_ a bitch to get back online, I don’t even know if we have the _parts_.”

“No,” Hermann says faintly, his legs trembling beneath him as they threaten to give way. “I’m afraid the pain receptors are quite – _ah_ – functional.”

This last word is more moan than utterance, and Newton darts to Hermann’s side in order to ease him down into a chair.

Newton has the nerve to chastise him as he searches for Hermann’s power cord. “You were running too many programs while those ‘bot-hunters were chasing us, weren’t you?”

Hermann bristles at the accusation. “I was running the _necessary_ prediction models in order to plan our escape: the very prediction algorithms that saved us, I might add. We’re not all the latest models, Newton – some of us have to conserve our resources.”

“Not when it means turning off your fucking _pain receptors_ , dude,” Newton says angrily, jamming Hermann’s power cord into his neck with slightly more force than necessary.

Even as electric relief soaks Hermann’s limbs, he has the decency to feel guilty. “I apologize,” he says. “I forgot you don’t enjoy your, er… _that_ being brought up.”

Newton frowns, turning away to pick through Hermann’s bins of spare parts. “God, just shut up, will you? You and Pentecost have been walking on glass around me ever since you sought me out for your little angry android club and told me…oh, fuck it, told me I’m a robot! There, I said the word, are you happy? Is that enough proof for you to stop worrying about me having another meltdown? I’m _fine,_ Hermann. I’m just…I’m still adjusting. I’m not used to being a ‘model’ of something.”

Hermann has no words of comfort to offer – he has been nothing more than a model his entire life. Nonetheless, he tries…“Humans are models too,” he ventures.

Newton snorts. “What? What’s that supposed to _mean_?” He kneels at Hermann’s feet, necessary parts in hand. His careful hands start their work, gently prying loose bits of metal and debris from Hermann’s leg.

Hermann watches him and forgets to speak for a very long time. His mind hums with the sluggish current still flowing through him. Hermann wants nothing more than to power down – God, how long has it been since he’s had the ability, the _safety_ to power down?

But he cannot look away from Newton’s hands: they replace half-melted cartridges, they tinker with his circuits, they play at the thin wires spilling out of his calf and curling loosely at his ankles. The skin panels on those hands are exquisite: so complexly textured, with soft hairs and freckles peppering their surface. The soft and durable material allows for the supplest of movements. Hermann could not have designed Newton better himself.

“You haven’t answered my question,” Newton says, jerking Hermann out of his reverie. His voice is soft, as if in deference to Hermann’s mood – as preposterous as the concept of deference is, when it comes to Newton. “Think it’s time for you to take a nap, Herms.”

“I don’t take naps.”

“Fine, ‘power down’ or whatever. Sue me for not knowing the robot lingo.”

“You’ll pick it up eventually,” Hermann reassures him.

Newton shrugs as if he doesn’t care one way or the other and returns to his work.

Before Hermann can get lost in watching those hands again, he forces himself to speak. “Humans are models,” he repeats. His voice comes out softer than he intends it to be. He frowns – how many times today has he pushed the boundaries of his emotive capabilities? How many times since he met Newton? Hermann feels vulnerable, uncomfortable in his own skin panels. 

Nonetheless, he continues: “In some of their religious texts, humans say that they were modeled after God.” Hermann cannot count the numbers of times he’s powered down while clutching one of those texts to his chest, inspired and condemned and hopelessly lost in the wake of its poetry. “And if that is the case, then they are like _us_ , Newton.” _Then there is nothing_ wrong _with us._

Newton must hear something in the sound of his voice, must hear those unspoken words somehow. He carefully sets down his tools and, looking Hermann in the eye, places a careful kiss at the exposed circuits in Hermann’s leg.

The skin panels in his face and leg burn atop his metal frame; he is sure that the entire city should be able to hear how his circuits thrum with heat. 

“Is this okay?” Newton says from his place at Hermann’s feet. His gaze hasn’t strayed from Hermann’s face.

So many colors alight in Newton’s eyes. They are the only thing that could perhaps stop the android from passing: their brightness is nearly inhuman, their glow electric. Or perhaps Hermann’s language database has just finally given in to the figurative.

 _I’m malfunctioning somehow,_ Hermann thinks. But it’s only a passing thought. The only thing he can hold in his mind is the wet, soft press of Newton’s lips against his circuits. So he nods. 

Newton kisses his circuits again, before lifting Hermann’s ankle and pecking him there. “You- _we_ don’t need to be like them, Hermann,” Newton murmurs, pressing kisses all along Hermann’s leg.

“E-easy for you to say,” Hermann sighs under his breath, the intimacy of lips against circuits making it difficult to breathe – odd that he should worry about it, given that the action isn’t a necessary one. Newton must be a bad influence.

The android in question stands. He pulls down the thick collars of Hermann’s sweaters until his chest is just visible. The glowing core, normally hidden underneath multiple layers of clothing, shines brightly upon Newton’s face, casting it into playful shadow.

“What, because I’m a newer model?” Newton says, pressing his palm against Hermann’s hot, wildly whirring core. “Dude, forget that. You are _hot._ Not your model, not your architecture – _you._ ”

Hermann swallows heavily – no one has ever spoken to him as such an individual, not even Pentecost – but the sound turns into a gasp when Newton presses his lips against the outline of Hermann’s core.

“It’s warm,” Newton murmurs, rubbing his cheek against it before allowing Hermann’s sweaters to fall back into place. He places his face alongside Hermann’s, his stubble scratching lightly against Hermann’s cheek.

“Will you kiss me?” Newton says. His breath is warm against Hermann’s skin panels. Hermann closes his eyes and basks in the heat.

 _Oh,_ how Hermann wants to kiss him: alien desire for closeness and intimacy fills him to the brim. He wants Newton, he wants this strange little android who embraces humanity and robotics all at once, who isn’t caught up in the binary that exists between those two worlds.

But Hermann isn’t _like_ him. He’s firmly entrenched in the robotic world – a fault of his model, or perhaps simply a fault in him – and as a result, he doesn’t know what to _do_ with the extraneous racing of his core.

“I,” he says, “I don’t-”

Newton stiffens, then pulls away. “You don’t have to, obviously,” he says, words stumbling and subdued. “I get it if it’s weird, or…fuck. Sometimes I think they made me too human, you know? A robot shouldn’t be able to fuck up this badly. Forget it, forget I said anything-”

Hermann pulls Newton into an embrace. The action is unfamiliar, but his arms around Newton’s body feels as natural as, well…perhaps ‘breathing’ isn’t the right word, but nearly as natural as running prediction algorithms.

“I…I think that I _do_ wish to kiss you, Newton. I didn’t mean to imply otherwise,” he says, mimicking Newton and rubbing their cheeks together. He finds that he likes the action enough to try it again. “But I don’t know how…”

Hermann can feel Newton’s body vibrate as the android laughs. He almost feels slighted by the action, but then Newton pulls away and presses a tender kiss to Hermann’s forehead.

Newton follows the action by resting his forehead against Hermann’s. “It’s not hard, Hermann. I mean, you’ve seen humans kiss.”

“Yes. But I am not human,” Hermann says. He cannot look away from Newton’s lips. His skin panels heat once more as he thinks about the journey those lips have taken across his body.

“I don’t care,” Newton says emphatically. “Doesn’t mean you can’t kiss.” Then he plunges forward and captures Hermann’s lips in a motion that leaves Hermann’s knees trembling, pain receptors be damned.

Newton’s lips move and press with a comforting pressure that seems the very antithesis of the slick, wet kisses that Hermann has seen humans exchange. Hermann can see why humans use this action as a way to show affection. For the movement of Newton’s lips against his is more message than motion: pouring reassurance and warmth into Hermann at a rate that leaves him slow and blissfully full.

The kiss doesn’t last long – Newton pulls away after only a few moments. Hermann realizes that he forgot to kiss back.

“Oh,” he says. “I, er…”

Newton laughs. “We’ll practice later,” he promises, kissing Hermann again. “Just let me finish your leg first, okay?”

Hermann nods. Newton returns to the task at hand, grinning to himself, and Hermann watches him work — all the while lightly touching the tips of his fingers to his now-warm lips.


	18. Karla Gottlieb is the Best Big Sister

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for Gottbleed Week. Prompt: “Sit still and let me look after you.” In which Hermann is bullied, and Karla looks out for him. No Newmann in this chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted 1 October, 2014.

“Hermann.”

He winces. It only takes a moment of hesitation before he aborts any sort of attempt to continue sneaking past Karla’s room. There’s simply no point to it when she’s looking at him like _that:_ with some unholy combination of their mother’s concerned brow and their father’s skeptical frown.

There’s no point in trying to hide his face from her either, but he tries anyway.

“What?” he snaps.

“‘What,’ he says, like I can’t _see_ that your nose is bleeding,” Karla says. Her feet tap against the ground, as if she’s impatient to skip the step where Hermann attempts to lie so that they can just continue to next stage of this cycle.

Hermann glances down to where he’s hiding his nose in his sleeve and – ah. It would appear he hadn’t managed to stem the flow before it stained his shirt. Fantastic.

He sighs. “I don’t need a lecture.”

Karla looks at him for a moment, and then her skepticism falls away and she looks only like herself. She sighs too, the sound a weary echo of his own. “I’m not going to lecture you. How could I deny Lars the honor?” she adds in a muttered aside.

Hermann swallows heavily. His bruises aren’t _too_ bad: perhaps make-up could work this time, perhaps it would be enough to conceal his injuries?

“Hey, it’s alright, Hermann. We’ll see what we can do,” Karla says, her voice low and soft. She jerks her head towards the door. “Go on, into the bathroom. You know the drill.”

Hermann ends up sitting on the toilet seat, short and humiliated as Karla looks down on him, briefly inspecting his injuries before fetching the disinfectant.

“They really got you good this time,” Karla murmurs, carefully wiping away the dirt on Hermann’s face. Her fingers linger around the purpling skin surrounding his eye.  
  
Hermann bites his lip, resisting the urge to trace his injuries for himself. Since the encounter with several of his less impressed peers, only glances at storefront windows and the throb of his aching nose had alerted him as to the state of his appearance. But he can imagine what Karla is seeing now: blood, crusty and dry by now, covering his nose and lips; sluggishly bleeding scratches littering his cheeks and palms; and, of course, the brilliant shiner gracing his eye, which he _definitely_ will not be able to hide from his father.

Hermann wonders if Karla’s going to press for details, going to ask for names and addresses – but no, as much as she clearly would like to be, Karla isn’t looking to be out hunting for blood. Probably too busy cleaning up Hermann’s own for it.

“That nose isn’t broken, is it?”

He starts. “Oh, erm. No, I don’t think so…”

Karla rolls her eyes. “You don’t give me enough credit, Hermann,” she chides, prodding gently at his nose before beginning to clean the area. “I’m not going to interrogate you, okay? You can loosen up.”

“Easy for you to say,” he mutters, the sentence broken off by a hiss of pain as Karla’s hand bumps against his nose.

She only gives him an even look before sighing and issuing an apology. Hermann immediately feels guilty – it’s _not_ easy for her to say, is no easier for her than it is for Hermann.

“I-”

“Sit still and let me look after you,” Karla interrupts him, giving his nose a final wipe before attending to the blood on his shirt collar. “God, this’ll be a bitch to clean. Remind me to get some cold water going when we’re done here.”

“Thank you,” Hermann murmurs.

“Maybe I should be the one thank _you_ – after all, I’m damn good at getting blood stains out of clothing now.”

“Charming,” he says, rolling his eyes.

“Oh hush. It’s not as if you feel like talking about anything serious anyway,” Karla says. The disinfectant she then dabs onto his cuts stings, and the brief flashes of pain deter Hermann from responding right away.

Hermann thinks about confessing what’d happened in the prelude to the fight: the slurs that’d been tossed at him – sexuality, gender, disability, they weren’t too picky about the subject matter these days – and the feeble defense he’d attempted, his father’s voice ringing in his ears all the while. But it’s a conversation they’ve had before, and not one he particularly feels like repeating now.

“No, I dare say I don’t,” he says finally.

Karla picks up a dry cloth and gently rubs at his face one last time before sticking a plaster on one of his deeper scratches. “Fair enough. Then after the day you’ve had and the day _I’ve_ had, I say we _both_ deserve a cigarette.”

Hermann huffs. “Karla, Father will-”

“-Not be home for another two hours, and I want a cigarette,” Karla says. She stands up and offers a hand to help him up. “Don’t lie to me, you practically foamed at the mouth when I mentioned them.”

‘Foamed at the mouth’ is definitely an overstatement but – yes, alright, Hermann would kill for some nicotine right now.

He lets Karla help him to his feet. A quick glance in the mirror reveals that aside from his shiner and his plaster, Hermann looks…passable, actually. Perhaps a lecture won’t be necessary after all. So long as they remember to get rid of the bloody cloth and wash his ruined shirt anyway.

“ _One_ cigarette,” he allows, smiling at Karla’s infectious grin as she leads him to her bedroom window.  


	19. Necromancer AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for Gottbleed Week. Prompt: “I didn’t mean to hit you that hard.” AU in which Newt is a necromancer and Hermann can't believe what he's gotten himself into.
> 
> I LOVE this AU, and quite frankly it should be its own fic...but I never really did anything with it, so I've decided to post it with the rest of the fills.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted 5 October, 2014.

Hermann’s mission is ostensibly a straightforward one: he finds the necromancer’s nest and then reports back to Pentecost about their whereabouts. Simple really. Simple enough that Hermann had even scoffed at having received an assignment so beneath his abilities, but orders are orders.

Later on, Hermann would berate himself for being so foolish, so complacent. He should have known that there’s no such thing as a straightforward mission, not when one is working with magic.

Finding the necromancer’s nest – a cave, of all things, and one not more than a few leagues from the Shatterdome, this person must truly be a fool – is an easy enough task for someone as well-versed in tracking spells as Hermann is. Even breaking the enchantments on its entrance is only a matter of a few whispered words and a knock with his staff. Hermann sighs once he’s dispelled the charms, wondering if he’ll be able to finish this job fast enough to make it back to the Shatterdome for breakfast.

The thought flees his head as he enters the cave. Hermann gapes at the sight. He’d expected something rank and dark, but this is nearly… _homey._ A half dozen torches ooze enough warmth to make the small enclosure a lovely escape from the bitter winds of the countryside. A simple straw cot heaped with blankets sits along the wall. The piece of furnishing is surrounded with books, scrolls, and quills. This cave is not dissimilar from Hermann’s own rooms, really.

The only thing that sets it apart is the summoning circle taking up the majority of the floor. And even this item doesn’t seem particularly menacing: the practiced design is intricate and beautiful, its whorls are painted in arching strokes that seemed almost _playful_.

But then again, they are also painted in _blood._ Hermann shakes his head. He is not here to admire some rune-caster’s spellwork – he’s here to find a _necromancer._

Hermann takes a deep breath, lifting his hand and collecting his magic to him as he searches for any trace of the lingering presence in this cave. The spell is slow to come – his leg is aching from the cold and the warmth of the cave has lulled him into a sleepy, stupid state – but at last he can sense the patterns of magic in the room, can sense the-

Just as Hermann tenses at the sudden presence, pain — fleeting and sharp — blossoms across his head. The hand he was using to cast out his lines instinctively retreats to clutch at his wound. He hisses when his skin stings at the touch and his palm comes away wet with blood.

“Oh no, oh _shit,_ are you okay?”

The voice in question comes from the very person who just _hit_ him, leaving Hermann bleeding _and_ confused. He turns, staff and palm both raised, but he cannot help lowering his weapons slightly when he examines his attacker.

Despite his abilities, Hermann is admittedly a bit lacking in experience: truth be told, he has never actually _seen_ a necromancer before. But he’s pretty sure they’re not supposed to be so _short_. This small, somewhat chubby man simply does not _look_ like a man of dark magic.

Nor sound like one, for though this man is a necromancer – someone who can raise the dead with the mere timbre of their voice – his voice is decidedly…squeaky. He is also currently babbling: another thing that does not strike Hermann as being very necromancer-like.

“Of course you’re not okay, you’re bleeding,” the necromancer says. “I didn’t mean to hit you that hard — it’s just that you were about to step in the circle and that would’ve been _bad_ news for you. Plus, I literally _just_ painted that thing and I didn’t want to have to redo it…”

“So trying to kill me was the simplest answer?” Hermann says, immediately wanting to smack himself as soon as he does so. This is supposed to be a simple reconnaissance mission and Hermann has already managed to screw it up by engaging with the target. What will Pentecost think?

The necromancer winces. “I really didn’t mean to hurt you though! It’s just that the mages from the Shatterdome have been killing my pets for weeks, so, really, you can’t blame a guy for being a bit on guard!”

“Your… _pets_?” Hermann chokes out. “Is that what you call the undead monstrosities that wandered into our village?”

The necromancer raises an unimpressed brow. “I mean, yes they’re technically undead, and I guess they’re technically monsters as well, but there’s no need to call them that — they weren’t even trying to hurt anybody! They just got lost!”

Hermann rolls his eyes. “Pardon me if I don’t believe the word of a _necromancer_ …a rather poor one as well, if you can’t even keep track of your dead.” He instantly chides himself for being unable to hold his tongue; surely the necromancer will attack him for such a comment.

But no, though the necromancer’s eyes flash and his smile tightens into something deadly, he doesn’t attack with staff or magic, but with words: “Could say the same for you, guy: don’t think I’ve ever heard of a Paladin who can’t even sense a necromancer’s presence.”

The back of Hermann’s head throbs hotly and dripping blood stains his clean, white robes. At the necromancer’s words, he finds his hand clenching itself into a fist rather than splaying itself open into a position of power. Hermann’s magic doesn’t normally come from a place of rage — but he finds his power frothing eagerly inside him nonetheless in response to the necromancer’s taunts.

“Wait, wait,” the necromancer says, holding his hands up. His gaze is not fearful, nor even focused on Hermann’s glowing staff – instead he cannot stop staring at Hermann’s fist. “Please don’t perform any magic right now, okay?”

Hermann scoffs. “Afraid to finally be outmatched, necromancer?”

“Afraid that you’re standing in my summoning circle and about to get hurt,” the necromancer says slowly.

Hermann looks down to see the circle humming with energy beneath him, its runes moving lazily within its bounds. He wonders with fresh alarm if perhaps this necromancer is more powerful than he’d supposed. “What are you doing?” he hisses.

“ _I’m_ not doing anything, just take it easy, guy-”

This man is intolerable. “ _Not_ ‘guy’ – Gottlieb,” Hermann says through clenched teeth.

The necromancer’s mouth falls open. “Shit,” is all he has time to say before the circle glows white hot underneath Hermann’s feet.

“Stop this!” Hermann yells. He tries to escape the circle, but it tugs him gently back each time he moves his feet. “Stop- whatever it is you are doing!”

“It’s not me – it’s _you_ , you fucking idiot of a Paladin!” the necromancer screams. He’s darting around the circle, hitting it with his staff, murmuring incantations – but the glow only continues to intensify, white bars of power that illuminate the entire cave, leaving nothing in shadow.

“ _Me?”_

“You bled on my circle!” the necromancer yells, grabbing Hermann’s hand – still covered in blood, still dripping onto this very circle – and shoving it in his face. “You bled on my circle and you said your _name_ : blood and a name on a magic circle, what did you think would happen?”

“Impossible,” Hermann whispers. “We have light and dark magic, they aren’t _compatible-_ ”

“Tell that to the circle,” the necromancer says, finally giving a screech of frustration and stepping inside the circle with Hermann.

“This better work, this better work,” the necromancer murmurs, grabbing Hermann’s bleeding hand in his own. The necromancer clears his throat, and his voice rings so loudly and full of power that Hermann knows that the uttered words must be a name: “Newton Geiszler!”

Light overpowers Hermann’s senses, blinding him, moving as a living thing as it fills his eyes, his ears, his nostrils. Tendrils of darkness twine with the light, coating the back of his throat and choking him. He can hear the necromancer – Newton – wheezing beside him. Hermann holds Newton’s hand tight, relieved when he receives a responding squeeze — for the pressure of that hand in his own is the only thing that keeps him grounded during the chaos of the spell.

And then the forces brought forth by the circle – light, darkness, some strange combination of the two – leave just as quickly as they came, sinking back into the softly humming circle that they’re both standing on.

Hermann can do nothing but breathe for a moment: gasping, rattling breaths that pour unhindered from his now-clear throat. After he’s caught his breath, however, Hermann’s face grows hot as he realizes he’s still holding Newton’s hand, still stroking the palm beneath his. He quickly pulls his hand away, using it instead to lean heavily on his staff.

“What was _that_?” he gasps. He wonders if he is about to be sick on a magic circle: it would only one more new experience to add to Hermann’s quickly growing collection.

“I’ve never…never done one,” Newton pants. “But it was like…like a drifting spell…like how they sound in books.”

Hermann has _seen_ drifting spells, has studied them up close and marveled at their power. He knows that it’s more than possible that the two of them just performed _some_ version of that dual magic. But…

“Our magics aren’t compatible,” Hermann insists. Except that when he feels the back of his head, he finds that the wound is almost completely healed, closed with the dark threads of magic that make up a necromancer’s stitches. Hermann wants to groan: that wasn’t _his_ magic that did that.

“Tell that to-”

“Yes, tell that to the circle,” Hermann says wearily, tapping his staff against the dimming lines of the design.

“Uh…actually, I was going to say, tell that to… _that_.”

Hermann looks up, and as he does so he very suddenly remembers that this isn’t just a magic circle that they’re standing in: it’s a _summoning_ circle.

“Fuck,” he breathes, watching as the summoned spirit explores its new surroundings. Hermann has no idea _what_ the creature would be classified as, even if it were alive. It’s certainly not human, but six limbs, a glowing blue body, and glistening teeth don’t give any clues as to its identity. The beast would likely be terrifying if not for the fact that it hardly comes up to Hermann’s knees.

But instead it seems to Hermann to be almost…beautiful. It isn’t like the other spirits and undead Hermann has seen: instead of rotting meat and bone, this thing seems to be made of light and scales, of a magic not entirely Newton’s own.

Hermann clears his throat. “You mean, you- _we,_ we _both_ summoned that?”

As if in response to Hermann’s question, the creature enters the circle with them. It kneads at both of their legs, instinctively mindful of its own horns and of Hermann’s bad leg. It growls happily as Newton lays a gentle hand to the hard plates of its head.

Hermann actually does groan now. He’d come up here to scout out a necromancer’s lair and instead he’d managed to perform _drift_ magic, _summoning_ magic, with said necromancer.

The creature chirps at him, staring at Hermann with baleful eyes. Hermann tentatively pats the beast’s head and wonders what on _earth_ he is going to tell Pentecost.


	20. Disability Bros

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for Gottbleed Week. Prompt: "can you walk?" and "I think I see the light." Warning for internalized ableism.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted 11 October, 2014.

 

Hermann cannot get back to the lab fast enough. He is _physically unable_ to get back to the lab fast enough, because he’s in such a state right now – hands trembling, leg throbbing with every step – that he’s sure to trip if he quickens his pace.

Sure to trip _again._ His stomach twists; the dull sound of his cane hitting the floor sends a wave of nausea through him as he walks.

By the time Hermann reaches the lab, he wonders if he’s going to actually be sick. Wouldn’t that just be a perfect way to round out the day?

“Hermann!”

He sighs. Of _course_ he did not make it here without a shadow. “I’m busy, Dr. Geiszler,” Hermann says. He aimlessly shuffles some papers on his desk to make this appear to be the truth.

Newton stands in the doorway of the lab, panting, glaring at him. “‘Dr. Geiszler,’ huh? Sue me for trying to make sure you’re okay, dude.”

Unbelievable. Wasn’t Hermann’s humiliation complete enough without such a confrontation? “I’m fine,” he says through gritted teeth.

Newton looks as though he dearly wants to point out that falling down in the middle of a crowded mess hall doesn’t generally lead to one being _fine_ – but instead he sighs, gestures to Hermann’s hands, and says, “You’re bleeding.”

Hermann glances down, wincing at the sight of his palms. A particularly nasty scrape oozes blood on the hand not holding his cane. He dearly hopes it won’t need stitches.

“Here, let me help you clean that up,” Newton says.

Hermann looks at him suspiciously, but in the end he finds that the statement is not an order — merely a suggestion. “Very well,” he says.

A quiet few minutes are spent with Hermann hissing over the ointment Newton applies and Newton loudly bandaging the scratch in order to drown out Hermann’s complaints. But then-

“Sooo, about what happened-”

“I’d rather not discuss my recent humiliation, thank you,” Hermann says curtly. “I’ve never used a cane before, I tripped, everyone saw – may we leave it at that?”

Newton raises an eyebrow – but there’s a guilty slant to the motion, so Hermann knows the other man is only going to continue talking. “I was just going to say that it sucks that your thing wasn’t outed on your terms, all right? I know how that goes.”

Hermann wants to be angry, to rebuff Newton, but his own curiosity gets the better of him. “You do?”

 “I was the ‘ADHD genius kid’ at MIT, man,” Newton says with a wry grin. “No such thing as outing yourself on your own terms when you’ve got that rep.”

“Ah…” Hermann says, looking down and away. Earlier he wanted to berate Newton for overstepping his bounds, but now Hermann feels as though he owes the same apology.

Newton shrugs, cutting off whatever sort of mangled condolence would have spilled from Hermann’s lips. “It’s okay.”

It isn’t, really, but it’s the sort of ‘okay’ with which Hermann is familiar with – it’s okay enough that Newton made it through and is here now.

“Now that you’ve divulged a personal story, does that mean I have to?” Hermann says hesitantly. “That’s how it usually goes, isn’t it?”

“If you want. But as a doctor-” Newton ignores Hermann’s gripes of _not a medical doctor_ “- _as_ a doctor, I wouldn’t recommend it, seeing as you nearly died of embarrassment already today.”

The assessment is a bit rude, but it’s also a kind of olive branch: their relationship hasn’t changed, Hermann can share when and if he’s ready. Hermann could melt in relief. Amongst all the other things that changing, at least this – _they_ — can stay constant.

“I may die of embarrassment yet, if this conversation continues,” Hermann says drily, to cover up the smile that threatens to overtake his lips. “In fact, I think I see the light. Shame, that, I was rather looking forward to disproving your theories about the kaijus.”

Newton rolls his eyes. “Loser,” he says, but he pats Hermann’s hand affectionately before standing. “I’m going back to the mess. Want me to get you some ice cream?”

Newton’s affectionate gesture sent a pang of warmth through Hermann’s chest, but it quickly extinguishes itself now. “I can get it myself,” he sighs. “I _can_ walk, you know.”

“Did I ask you, ‘can you walk?’ No, I asked you if you wanted some ice cream,” Newton says. “Because I do, but I’m perfectly happy leaving you in the dust if you don’t want any-”

“Chocolate,” Hermann says. His face reddens at his own outburst, but he forces himself to look Newton in the eyes as he says, “I’d like chocolate ice cream, if they have any left.”

Newton responding smile sends another thrill of warmth through Hermann’s chest, and Hermann wonders if this day won’t be a complete disaster after all.


	21. Superhero AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for Gottbleed Week. Prompt: “Is that blood?” & "How long was I out?" AU in which Hermann is a superhero and bad at keeping it secret.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted 11 October, 2014.

As Hermann climbs through the window, he reflects that he really is getting a bit old for this.

He doesn’t kid himself into believing that that means he’s going to _stop_ anytime soon. But, really, he’s thirty-five years old. He shouldn’t be climbing through windows anymore just so that Newton doesn’t see the mess Hermann’s made of his own nose. Keeping a secret identity at his age is frankly ridiculous.

Plus, it’s rather a strain on his leg to climb the two stories to their bedroom window – magnetic abilities helping him along or no.

Regardless, the rush of adrenaline from his latest mission overtakes these thoughts. He can feel his heart pounding in his chest, his thoughts racing and humming to the beat of his pulse, his fingertips calling crackling electromagnetic fields to attention as he sneaks through the window.

Perhaps it’s this same adrenaline – thrilling, exhilarating, _distracting_ – that keeps Hermann from hearing Newton enter the room.

“Who’s there?” a shaky voice says from behind him.

Hermann whips around to see Newton standing there. The other man is in his pajamas, holding a baseball bat and gaping at the person he’d thought to be an intruder.

Except the supposed intruder is undeniably _Hermann._ Stupid, _stupid_ Hermann, who had only just peeled off his mask, but is still wearing the rest of his costume: still dressed in ridiculous spandex as Newton stands there in a pair of sweatpants.

“I thought you were at Tendo’s,” Hermann says awkwardly.

“Alison’s got the flu. He canceled,” Newton says slowly, staring at Hermann’s uniform. His eyes are as wide as saucers as he lowers the bat.

Hermann cringes. Perhaps he could play the costume off as a cosplay? A fetish of some sort?

Then Hermann sees that Newton’s gaze has shifted towards the Newton’s cradle on his desk – the one whose metal balls are straining towards Hermann, towards his still thrumming magnetism.

Newton looks at him again and asks, “Is that blood?”

“Er…yes.”

Newton nods, swallows heavily, and then sways dangerously on his feet.

Hermann surges towards Newton, only just managing to catch him before he faints – dear _God_ will Hermann’s leg be killing him in the morning for that. He lowers them to the ground, groaning. Of all the ways to blow his secret identity, this is how Hermann managed to do it? Maybe he really _is_ getting too old for this.

Newton stirs in his arms, rousing Hermann from his thoughts.

“Did I _faint?_ ,” Newton murmurs, blinking blearily. “Ugh, that’s embarrassing. How long was I out?”

“Only a moment,” Hermann assures him.

The sound of Hermann’s voice only serves to remind Newton exactly _why_ he’d fainted in the first place. He points a shaking, accusatory hand at Hermann. “ _You’re_ Dr. Magnetism,” he says.

Hermann winces, but – there’s no sense in denying it. “Yes,” he admits.

Newton makes a whining sound, covering his face with his hands. “My math professor boyfriend is a _superhero_ ,” he moans. “I can’t believe this. No, wait – I _so_ can believe this. Who else but you would pick a nerdy name like _Dr. Magnetism_ as their alias?”

“It’s rather harder to choose a name than one would think,” Hermann says defensively. “It’s not as if one has time to mull these things over.”

This only causes Newton to moan again. “There is no developer’s club either,” he realizes. “You weren’t going to club meetings, you were being a freaking _superhero_ , Jesus Christ…”

Hermann hesitates. “I…I _was_ going to tell you…”

“When?” Newton says. His pulls his head out of his hands and glares at Hermann. Seeming to realize that he’s still in Hermann’s lap, he struggles to sit up, brushing off Hermann’s attempts at assistance. “We’ve been dating for two years – _when_ were you going to tell me?”

“When it was safe!” Hermann says, guilt pulling painfully at his stomach. “The K.A.I.J.U. are still out there and we’re still so far from destroying them. If even one of their operatives knew that you were connected to me-”

“Then maybe you could keep me safe with your, I don’t know, _magnetic superpowers_!” Newton screeches. “I’m not a damsel, Hermann! And even if I were, fuck – couldn’t you have trusted me with this anyway?”

“I…” Hermann puts his hands in his lap. “I should have. There is no excuse for my actions – not one that makes anything better. I’m sorry, Newton.”

“Damn straight you are. _Dr._ Magnetism,” Newton spits out, viciously rubbing his hands through his hair. “Fuck, even when you’re trying to keep your identity a secret, you _still_ can’t stop bragging about your degree.”

“You know I’m bad at naming things,” Hermann mumbles, still looking at his lap.

Newton laughs, the sound rough and a bit hysterical. “You really are. You tried to name our cat _Steve_ last year,” he says. The hint of smile in his voice gives Hermann the courage to look him in the eye again.

“Steve is a perfectly acceptable name,” Hermann says.

“Not for a _cat_ ,” Newton says, shaking his head. His smile fades and he sighs, wiping at his eyes. “You know the K.A.I.J.U. aren’t going to be stopped anytime soon, dude. Were you just going to keep going on like this forever? Would I have ended up as your dupe of a husband someday, not knowing you were off fighting crime while I was making a fucking lasagna?”

“Why would you be making lasagna?” Hermann says, and then his idiotic brain catches up with him and his eyes widen. “Wait —‘husband?’”

Newton freezes. It’s his turn to avoid Hermann’s gaze. “Um. Pretend I didn’t-”

“You wanted to be my husband?” Hermann whispers, voice trembling to his own ears.

“I, well, I…yeah. Of course I wanted that,” Newton says. He looks close to tears again, nose blotchy and eyes red. “Fuck, is this too much? If you’re going to break up with me, you might as well do it now – you can use the ‘I’m a superhero and have to protect you from _myself_ ’ thing as an excuse if you want.”

“Of course I’m not breaking up with you,” Hermann blurts out. “How could you think that?” Tears spring to Hermann’s eyes as well, but he viciously rubs them away. He gathers Newton into his arms, relieved when the other man sinks gratefully into the touch.

“You turned out to be a _superhero,_ man. Things are a bit turned upside-down right now,” Newton mumbles.

“Then that is _my_ fault, not yours. I was a fool – _am_ a fool, and you are now suffering for it. I can only offer my deepest apologies for having been so careless,” Hermann says, rubbing a soothing hand down Newton’s arm. He hesitates, but pushes on: “I…I wanted to be your husband someday too. I _still_ want that, if you’ll take me.”

When Newton laughs this time, it’s still a bit hysterical — but relief is what thankfully dominants the sound. “If that was a marriage proposal, it was a really shitty one,” he says after clearing his throat of tears.

“It rather was,” Hermann admits, pressing a kiss to Newton’s head. “May I have the privilege of trying again at a later date?”

Newton pulls himself away from Hermann and nods. “Only if you romance the pants off me, you asshole.”

Hermann nods, relief surging through him. “I’m sure that can be arranged,” he says.

“But, uh, maybe we should deal with your nose first,” Newton says, wincing at the sight of the blood still coating Hermann’s face.

Hermann prods at his nose and winces at the throb of pain that results from the action. And – well, fuck it. Newton already knows, doesn’t he? Hermann lifts a weary hand and beckons to the bathroom, sighing gratefully when the metal case of the first aid kit floats towards him.

A careful glance at Newton reveals that the other man is gaping at him again.

“Too much?” Hermann asks, biting his lip as he rummages through the still-floating kit.

“Too _awesome_ ,” Newton breathes. “After you clean up your nose – look, we still need to have a long talk about trust and all that, and I still need time to be angry at you, but…”

“But?”

“But after you clean that up, you are fucking me while wearing the costume,” Newton breathes.

Hermann surges forward to kiss his boyfriend – no, to kiss his _fiancé._ He laughs into the kiss at Newton’s inquiring investigation of the spandex of his suit. Perhaps Hermann isn’t getting too old for this game after all.


	22. Tummy Scratches

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not a fill, but written for a friend after we talked about Hermann liking his stomach scratched.
> 
> Warning for sexual content.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted 2 December, 2014.

“Newton, that tickles,” Hermann murmurs, any reprimand in his tone overpowered by the laziness of his drawling vowels.  
  
Newt grins. Hermann only ever uses that voice when he’s like this, relaxed and pliable under Newt’s care. Newt rubs his cheek against Hermann’s smooth stomach, laughing at the small gasp that escape his husband’s mouth.  
  
“Tickles, huh?” Newt says, planting small kisses at the soft curve of Hermann’s belly. It isn’t much of a belly to speak of, but without a war going on, the man’s stomach has finally begun to lose its taut, anxious edge.  
  
The smoothness, the heat of Hermann’s healthy-looking stomach makes Newt’s heart thud in his chest, makes him want to feed Hermann more, to care for this man as he hasn’t had time to in years.  
  
Although Newt had only meant to show his affection with the first kiss, now he can’t help but pepper his kisses lower and lower on Hermann’s torso.  
  
“Your stubble, i-it really does tickle,” Hermann says, but he doesn’t sound at all put out by it. He hitches his hips entreatingly as Newt presses his scratchy cheeks into the hollow of Hermann’s hip.  
  
“You like it,” Newt says, brushing a light touch over Hermann’s tenting trousers. “Although,” he continues, speaking in-between chaste kisses and absent-minded caresses, “I bet it’d feel great after I just shaved too, my cheeks all smooth and soft-”  
  
Hermann whimpers, and at that sound, Newt can’t restrain himself any longer. He divests Hermann of his trousers and eagerly takes the other man into his mouth, moaning as Hermann grips tightly at his hair.  
  
With one hand, Newt reaches to caress Hermann’s stomach, lightly scratching the skin there, rubbing soothing circles as he runs his tongue along his husband’s slit.  
  
Hermann’s orgasm crests slowly, drawing a low moan from him as he comes in Newt’s mouth, drawn to completion by the gentle licks of Newt’s tongue and the playful scratching of his fingers.  
  
Newt smiles again while Hermann catches his breath. He takes care to wipe his mouth before pressing another kiss to Hermann’s warm, soft stomach.


	23. Next-Door Neighbors AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for Gottbleed Week. Prompt: "Why didn't you call me" and/or "Is it as bad as it looks?" In which Hermann and Newt are neighbors, and they end up flirting over a first aid kit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted 30 December, 2014.

Newt wants to ask _are you okay_ but knows that will only annoy Hermann. More than that, he wants to selfishly ask Hermann _why didn’t you call me¸_ but knows that will only confuse Hermann. After all, they’re _neighbors_ , not boyfriends. It’s not like Newt has a right to Hermann’s calls.

Doesn’t stop Newt from aching for them though. He bites his lip, shoving that shit down. Now, when his hands are carefully touching Hermann’s face, is _not_ the time.

“Are you sure you don’t want to go to a hospital?”

Hermann tries to sigh out of his nose, but grimaces at the resulting pain. “Yes,” he hisses, his hand fluttering about his nose. “It’s not broken, just- _ow!_ Just because it’s not broken does not mean you can _slap_ a bandage on it! I thought biologists were supposed to have delicate hands.”

“Noticed my delicate hands, did you?” Newt blurts out, too used to their casual insults to approach this new tension between them with any delicacy. He blushes immediately. Hermann might too, but it’s a bit difficult to tell with the big bandage covering the man’s nose.

Newt’s hands still haven’t moved from their place at Hermann’s nose. He can feel Hermann breathing, can smell the alcohol on his breath, and if it weren’t for that Newt’s not sure if he could stop himself from leaning in and-

“Delicate enough to pick my lock,” Hermann murmurs finally. “Thought I gave you a key.” He tears his gaze away from Newt’s and slowly leans back.

 _Neighbors,_ Newt reminds himself desperately. _Just neighbors. Neighbors who give each other keys and flirt over a first aid kit, yeah but still just neighbors. Right?_

Newt clears his throat. “Yeah, well, you were moaning like you were dying and I couldn’t find my key, so I figured you’d excuse the intrusion. _So_ sorry for being a good neighbor there.”

“I wasn’t moaning, you-” Hermann begins, but trails off. He touches a hand to his tender nose and- is he _pouting_? “It _hurt_ a rather lot, you know. It’s not my fault these walls are so bloody thin.”

Newt wants to laugh at how defensive and tipsy Hermann is right now and- God, Hermann Gottlieb getting in a bar fight, who would’ve thought? Newt certainly wouldn’t have a few months ago, but that was before he knew Hermann: knew how obstinate he was. Maybe a bar fight wasn’t such a stretch after all.

 _Why didn’t you call me?_ he thinks again, when he pictures Hermann bloody and waiting for a cab in December weather.

Enough of that. Newt shakes his head and packs up the first aid kit. He stands up a bit too quickly. “All through. Is it as bad as it looks? Because it looks pretty awful,” he jokes, keeping his hands firmly at his sides.

Hermann’s brow furrows, like he’s confused why Newt is leaving, but he shakes his head. “The alcohol has certainly been helping with the pain,” he admits with a lazy grin.

Newt laughs. “Then I think it’s time you slept this off, man.”

“Mmm,” Hermann hums, curling up into a supine position on his couch.

“No, in your _bed._ ”

“My leg hurts,” Hermann complains. “And this is my apartment, I can sleep where I want.”

 _Obstinate as fuck_ , Newt thinks, far more fondly than he should. He moves into the kitchen and then the bathroom, getting Hermann water and ibuprofen for his inevitable hangover. It’s only when Newt places them on the living room table and throws a blanket on Hermann’s head – much to Hermann’s muffled cursing —  that he realizes he didn’t have to rummage around for these things at all. He knew exactly where they were, knew where almost everything in Hermann’s apartment was.

 _What does it say when you know your crush’s apartment as well as your own?_ Newt wonders as he closes the door behind him. He groans and leans back. His head hits the door with a soft thunk. _It means you’re so fucked._


	24. We Play Video Games to Win (Except When Hermann Bleeds)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for Gottbleed Week. Prompt: “I fought them off singlehandedly, all fifteen of them!” In which Hermann and New play video games, and it gets a _little_ bit too intense.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted 30 December, 2014.

“Just admit that you’re about to get your ass kicked.”

“Not on your life, Geiszler,” Hermann growls.

Newt blinks. Hermann frequently calls him ‘Dr. Geiszler’ in the workplace despite Newt’s protests, but rarely calls him by just his surname. Maybe this was a bad idea.

“Uh…you know it’s just a video game, right?” Newt says. His voice squeaks on the last syllable as Hermann jostles him in the process of swinging his controller. “Hey!”

“I know I’m about to _win_ ,” Hermann says.

Unfortunately, he speaks the truth. “I can’t believe I forgot how good you were at this stupid game,” Newt groans. “This is your first time playing it?“

“No,” Hermann admits. The sheepishness of his tone is certainly at odds with the way that his character is beating the shit out of Newt’s. “With the Breach closed, I’ve finally had time for games again. I just played this one last week.”

“You’re hustling me!” Newt realizes. “That’s cheating—that’s cheating!”

“It’s not hustling, there’s no money at stake! And it’s not like you ever _asked_ if I’d played it before.”

“That’s gotta still be cheating somehow.”

Hermann snorts. “I’ll have you know that on the final level, I fought them off singlehandedly, all fifteen of them! I have no need to cheat.”

“You god damn- yes, _yes_!” Newt yells, swinging the controller wildly to try to get his special attack to activate while Hermann is down. Of course, perhaps his efforts are a bit _too_ enthusiastic, because-

“ _Newton!_ ” Hermann hisses as Newt accidentally swings the controller into Hermann’s face with a loud crack. Blood flows instantly from Hermann’s nose.

Newt drops the controller and gapes at the blood. “Oh my God, I’m _so_ sorry! Are you okay?”

“I’m _bleeding_ ; what do you think?”

“Well I-”

Hermann closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. “Please don’t speak.”

“I’m sor-”

“ _Please._ Just. Get me an ice pack.”

Hermann was almost certainly about to kill Newt in the game, but now Newt wonders if that murder might happen in real life instead. He scrambles to the kitchen to get Hermann some ice and some tissues.

Hermann’s eyes are still closed when Newt returns, and the other man accepts the ice without a word.

“Maybe we should stop sitting so close while we play games, huh?” Newt jokes weakly.

Hermann responds with a chuckle. He winces as he adjusts the ice pack and finally opens his eyes again. “As much as I enjoy sitting next to you, that might be a necessary precaution to take,” Hermann says, and Newt knows he’s forgiven.

“Sucks too,” Newt sighs. “I was just about to beat you-”

“Excuse me?” Hermann says indignantly. “I had the upper hand the entire time! Even with this incident-” he gestures to his nose and Newt’s controller “-I still could’ve won if you’d kept playing!”

“What- what planet are you living on? I was about to do my special move!” Newt says. “I didn’t even _need_ to bust up your nose to win! Uh, not that I did that on purpose…”

“I know that,” Hermann says, patting Newt’s knee. “But nonetheless, this needs to be settled. As soon as this ice pack cools down, I demand a rematch.”

“Bring it _on…_ do you want some Advil first though?”

“Er, yes please.”


	25. Hermann, You Filthy Exhibitionist

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The next several fills are from a nsfw prompt meme (I brought in the new year with filthy smut), so sexual content is ahead. Prompt: having some “private time” and the other accidentally walking in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted 10 January, 2015.

Hermann had intended tonight to be productive. He’d planned on revising his monthly report, organizing his desktop, and finally settling in to start the new book Karla had given him for Christmas.

But he only makes it through three pages of revisions before he finds himself idly pressing his computer against his lap in firm, miniscule movements. He bites his lip, trying to push his hormones aside and get through at least another page of revisions but now that he’s noticed his body’s want it only increases in intensity, with each shift of the laptop spiking the heavy desire gathering in his groin-

“Oh, to hell with it,” Hermann mutters, setting the laptop aside and replacing its heat with the warm pressure of his own hand. He hums as he brushes his hand lightly against his trousers and feels his cock harden in anticipation. His skin already feels tight and sensitive though, and it’s not long before he opens his zip and puts a hand to his aching cock.

 _God,_ it’s been far too long since he’s done this. He rarely has the time or inclination to indulge in spending an evening in this way. Though it may not end up being an entire evening _per se –_ it’s been so long that he knows he won’t last more than a few minutes. Already each rough touch of his own hand sends a spike of electricity throughout his entire body, making him tremble and-

“Hermann, you are not going to _believe_ what I just-”

Hermann freezes. He had not locked his door. Newton Geiszler has an emergency key to his door. Newton Geiszler likes to abuse this privileged.  Newton Geiszler has just entered his room and is staring at him in shock. Hermann is an idiot.

“-found,” Newton finishes weakly, face reddening as he realizes what he’s just walked in on. Newton seems to try to say something, but what comes out of his mouth is more of a squeak than words. He’s just as frozen as Hermann is – which means that Newton is just _standing_ there while Hermann still hasn’t let go of his ( _still hard,_ dear God) cock.

Now is probably the time for Hermann to freak out, to kick Newton out, or at _least_ to put himself away. But…

As awkward as this situation should be, just the sight of Newton there, his hair messy and glasses askew, makes Hermann even _harder._ His cock still throbs beneath his hand, begging to be touched, and Newton is so damn _beautiful,_ so maybe that’s why Hermann decides to just…keep going.

It’s completely inappropriate and he cannot begin to explain his own actions, but he doesn’t take his eyes off Newton’s as he slowly pulls at his cock, gasping when he touches the pre-cum that’s gathered at the tip.

The breath that Newton lets out at Hermann’s actions is sudden and ragged. His eyes are wide as saucers, but Hermann notes with a strange and foreign note of satisfaction that there’s the beginning of a bulge in Newton’s trousers now.

Newton looks at Hermann with desperation, an unspoken question dancing in his eyes. Hermann calmly nods, trying to act as if his cock hadn’t throbbed warningly in his hand at even that small bit of eye contact.

With Hermann’s permission, Newton’s eyes wander down to where Hermann’s hand moves frantically against his cock. Newton’s hand moves to rub against his own clothed member and Hermann-

 _Moans._ It’s indecent, a truly embarrassing sound – definitely not one he wants _Newton_ hearing – but he can hardly care when the friction, the rough heat of his palm feels so damn _good,_ amplified by the heavy weight of Newton’s eyes upon him. The combination of the two sends sparks and pulses through his abdomen, makes desire pool and twist in his belly. With the addition of this strange new element – Newton standing there, watching him, eyes wide and desperate and _wanting_ – it’s hardly a minute before Hermann comes into his hand with an embarrassingly loud moan.

He lets his eyes close for a blissful second. He catches his breath as he basks in the pleasure of this gorgeous afterglow, as he soothes his trembling limbs. He hasn’t come like that in a _long time._

But it truly is only for a second, for then he opens his eyes and realizes that Newton is _still standing there._ Standing there because Hermann had let him do so, had  _wanted_ him to do so. 

Hermann opens his mouth, glances at Newton’s tenting trousers, closes his mouth. Now would probably be a good time to tuck his cock away, but it’s not like Newton is looking at it anyway. The other man’s eyes are instead fixed upon Hermann’s face as he stares in amazement.

“I…” Hermann says, his voice still breathy and shaking from his post-coital state.

“Uh-”

“I, er-”

Hermann wants to die. His face feels as though it’s _burning_ by the time he and Newton finally think to avert their eyes.

“I’m…I have to, uh-” Newton says, in a courageous attempt at a complete sentence.

Hermann nods frantically. “Yes, I, ah, I’ll see you tomorrow.” It’s then that he realizes that he actually  _does_ have to facethis man tomorrow. Dear God, _what had he been thinking?_

“ _Yep,_ ” Newton squeaks, his voice strained as he awkwardly claps his hands together. His trousers are still tented and- oh _God,_ Gottlieb, don’t notice that, have some self-respect!

“I’ll, um, give you my revisions to your report then.” Hermann squeezes his eyes shut. _Why is he still talking?_

“ _Hah,_ yeah, sounds great. Can’t wait!” Newt’s voice has moved from tense to slightly hysterical and Hermann _really_ can’t blame him.

“Yep…”

“Well, uh…nice seeing you- oh, shit, uh, I mean- yeah, see you tomorrow! Bye!” Newton practically shouts, before fleeing from the room.

Hermann lays his head onto his pillow with a groan. What has he _done?_


	26. Space AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: giving the other a strip tease. In which Newt is an alien and hasn't quite caught on to how human strip teases work. Sexual content.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted 11 January, 2015.

“What on earth are you doing?”

“Giving you a strip tease!”

Hermann raises an eyebrow. Though the fact that Newt is slowly taking off his clothes _technically_ means that he fulfills the definition of a strip tease, the manner in which he’s whipping around his pants is more wild than sexy. “How is _that_ supposed to be a strip tease?”

 “I know what a strip tease is! I researched Earth sexual customs so that we could engage in something familiar to you,” Newt explains, eyebrows furrowed as if _Hermann_ is the one exhibiting odd behavior right now. “And _this_ is what it said a strip tease is! I’m taking off my clothes in a seductive manner!”

The alien is definitely pouting now, having abandoned swinging the pants around in favor of crossing his arms at Hermann.

Hermann chuckles, standing so that he can cradle Newt’s cheek – tinged blue with embarrassment, and Hermann feels rather bad for laughing now.  
  
“I very much appreciate your efforts, Newt,” he says. He rubs his thumb gently across the alien’s cool, blue cheek. “Though it appears that your research methods may have been flawed-“  
  
” _Flawed?_ I-“

“Alright, not flawed, you’re right. But I do think that there is a cultural difference between our definitions of ‘seductive,’” Hermann says, pressing a kiss to Newt’s tapered ears

Newt shivers, as he always does whenever Hermann touches those exquisitely sensitive ears. “Y-yeah?” he says, clinging to Hermann when the human gently sucks on the tip of one.

“On Earth, a strip tease is not about the clothes or the demonstration of ability,” Hermann murmurs. He playfully nips of Newt’s ear lobe. “It’s about unwrapping one’s body for the other person. You do it slowly, to tease them, give them visual pleasure — and sometimes to show them that your body can be _theirs…_ if they can be patient.”

“Patience is one thing…But how do you feel about having sex in space, Dr. Gottlieb?” Newt breathes into Hermann’s ear.

Hermann swallows heavily. Though he and Newt have pleasured each other on various planetary bases, they’ve never done so while traveling through the galaxy.  
  
Newt takes his hand and leads him back to their bed. It’s not as big as Hermann would like – it’s only a Class 3 starship, after all, the Pan Galactic Defense Corps can’t afford much more – but it’s enough to fit Hermann and the small alien.

“It certainly sounds appealing,” Hermann breathes. His voice cracks on the last word as Newt undoes his zip and nuzzles his cock. Newt’s certainly done enough, ahem, _hands-on_ research to know what Hermann likes in that regard. He knows just how to lick and touch Hermann to hardness, how to suck at the tip and stroke the achingly sensitive shaft until Hermann is trembling under his lips.

“I-I want to touch you too,” Hermann manages, after Newt gives him the gentlest scrap of teeth that causes Hermann’s toes to _curl_ in pleasure.

Newt nods quickly, scrambling to get his own trousers off. He kneels over Hermann so that his mouth can attend to Hermann’s member while Hermann is able to pay him the same courtesy.

Hermann sighs happily. Newt’s gently glowing slit is right there, leaking and swollen with lust, gorgeous and vibrant and _Newt’s._ Hermann caresses the rim with feather-light touches, smiling as Newt moans around Hermann’s cock in response.

Hermann chuckles to himself. When he’d watched _2001: A Space Odyssey_ and other such movies as a teenager, he’d always been inspired to go to space one day, but well…he’d certainly never imagined _this._

For how could he have imagined having an _alien_ as a boyfriend? How could he have imagined having pressure and heat so lovingly coaxed into existence through Newt’s delicate licks, having Newt suck and stroke him so eagerly, so carefully, until Hermann’s limbs quiver with his imminent orgasm?

Hermann’s lips are close to the alien’s slit, so that it’s easy to lick his way into Newt’s genitals until his tongue is caressing the alien’s soft, writhing insides. Newt’s species has delightfully sensitive genitals, so that it’s only a matter of moments before Newt is rocking his hips against him and crying out in his own language, coming so that his sweet juices squirt against Hermann’s tongue.

Hermann moans into the excess. He swipes his tongue once more into Newt’s genitals before pulling out and pressing a gentle kiss to the slit. Newt’s orgasm has only brought Hermann closer to the edge, has made his limbs dazzlingly light and electric. It’s not long before the combination of Newt’s sucking and the taste of the alien’s sweet, slightly spicy come lingering on Hermann’s tongue is enough to bring the heat in Hermann’s hips to an unbearable pressure, until he comes into Newt’s mouth with all the eagerness that the other man had done for him.

Newt’s limbs tremble from keeping his position, and as soon as Hermann is done, the alien collapses besides him. “Told you space sex was better than being patient,” he yawns, nuzzling into Hermann’s side. Much to Hermann’s own delight, Newt had grown terribly fond of ‘Earth post-coital customs’ — he’s definitely the cuddliest partner that Hermann’s ever had.

“I dare say you were correct,” Hermann laughs gently, carding a tender hand through Newt’s hair.

“And you thought my research was flawed,” Newt says smugly.

“Oh?”

“That was a _perfect_ execution of an Earth 69!”

Hermann’s laugh turns into more of a breathless giggle at that point, a sound he knows fascinates Newt. He pulls the alien closer and is forced to admit that Newt’s research endeavors had certainly been successful tonight.


	27. Two Thumbs Up to Hermann's New Bra

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: stripping off. In which Hermann is my non-binary darling, and Newt admires his new bra. Sexual content.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted 12 January, 2015.

Hermann’s skin tingles pleasantly as Newt’s hands explore beneath his shirt — he can’t help but shiver at the warm fingers which whisper against the chill of his chest.

He nearly shivers again at the brightness of Newt’s smile when the other man’s fingers run up against smooth, fine lace.  
  
“You’re wearing it,” Newt breathes. He presses a soft kiss to Hermann’s neck and brushes his fingers carefully along the bow in the center of Hermann’s bra.

His _bra._ Now there’s something he never could’ve dreamed of. Just the thought — _his_ bra — fills him with a pleasant and bubbling warmth that’s only made even better by Newt’s gentle caresses.

“It’s- it’s more of girl day,” Hermann murmurs. “Sort of, anyway…”

“Do you want me to use different pronouns?”

Hermann shakes his head mutely. The lingerie is one thing, but the rest…he hasn’t quite worked up to that yet. He still hasn’t been able to wrap his mind around pronouns, certainly not enough consider which ones he’d like to have available.

“Alright,” Newt says, kissing Hermann’s jaw some more, biting gently as he undoes the buttons of Hermann’s shirt, revealing the simple, blue lace underneath.

“God, you’re so _beautiful_ , Hermann,” Newt sighs.

Hermann flushes. Beautiful is a word that both of them use regardless of gender, but now, with his chest bared to Newt and with the other man touching the lace so reverently, the word sits heavily in his chest: warm and thick and exquisite.

“I’m fairly certain that it’s you who are- _ah-_ ”

Newt seems to have anticipated Hermann’s protests, because he cuts him off by gently pulling the bra cup away and putting his skilled tongue to use against Hermann’s nipple.

Newt’s careful licks cause it to harden almost immediately. Hermann has always found it slightly embarrassing just how sensitive his nipples are, but here, with Newt sucking at them with such enthusiasm while holding _his bra_ , he cannot bring himself to care.

How can he, when Newt is so _good_ at this? The other man knows just how Hermann wants this, knows when to slow down and suck gently to leave Hermann writhing, and when to swipe his tongue quickly and nip, dragging moans out of him that are _surely_ loud enough to be heard through the thin Shatterdome walls.

Just as Hermann is on the cusp of over-stimulation, Newt pulls off to breathe. “God, you’re making this so hard,” he groans.

Hermann tries to raise an eyebrow, but he fears the gesture is rather lost in the middle of his ragged pants. “T-that is rather the _point_ of all this,” he says, nodding to Newt’s tenting trousers.

Newt snorts. “Oh my God- not _that_ kind of hard.I mean, that too, but- no, you make _this_ hard.” Newt gestures between himself and Hermann’s chest. “Because I really want to take your bra off so that I can touch you more, but you also look _so_ hot in it and I love that you feel okay wearing it around me. You see my dilemma here?”

Hermann’s chest aches deliciously at Newt’s words, and he presses their lips together in a rough kiss. “I think I may have a solution to your problem,” he says between kisses and gentle nips.

“Oh?”

“The bra can stay, but- there is plenty of _other_ clothing that you can take off instead, you know,” Hermann says, pressing his hips suggestively against Newt’s.

Newt’s eyes flutter shut at the contact. “ _Oh,_ you are a genius.”

“I’m glad that you’ve finally admitted it. Does that mean you’re finally ready to take my breach plans seriously then, or are you-”

“Okay, you need to stop talking, because otherwise I’m going to start yelling at you, which will make it _extremely_ difficult for me to blow you,” Newt says. He unbuttons Hermann’s trousers and shoves them down, leaving Hermann clad only in his undergarments.

“Very well,” Hermann says faintly, his cock throbbing at the promise which Newt’s words hold.  
  
Newt mouths him through the thin fabric of his underwear, teasing Hermann with only the faintest of licks. It’s the pair of underwear that matches this bra, and God, Hermann has never felt as beautiful, as _pretty_ as he does when Newt looks at him like this. Yes, Newt has gazed at him with lust before, with desire, but those looks never cut through Hermann as deeply as the kind of look Newt’s giving him right now: full of aching affection, like Hermann is a marvel, like this is fun and like _Hermann_ is fun. Like there’s nowhere else he’d rather be.

Hermann’s heart throbs, hot and light in his chest.

“I love you,” he gasps as Newt gives him another playful lick through his underwear.

Newt freezes and Hermann wonders for a moment if he’s said the wrong thing. But then Newt rubs his head against Hermann’s thigh and sends him a shaky, dazzling grin.

“I love you too,” Newt breathes with wonder, pressing a careful kiss to the inside of Hermann’s thigh. He rubs his hands slowly down Hermann’s calves, covers Hermann’s legs with soft, eager kisses, and finally stands up, holding a hand out to guide Hermann back to their bed where they begin kissing each other anew.


	28. Hermann, You Filthy Exhibitionist 2: Sexting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: moaning the other’s name and sexting. In which Newt sexts Hermann while in a cafeteria. Sexual content.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted 12 January, 2015.

Newt maintains that the initial text is entirely innocent. Okay, maybe not _innocent_ per se – _can’t stop thinking about going down on u rn_ cannot be misconstrued as anything but sexual – but he’d meant it more in a wistful sense than as an attempt to instigate anything. After all, Hermann’s been at the Sydney Shatterdome for over a week – good morning texts are simply good boyfriend etiquette by that point!

Hermann doesn’t seem to think it’s as endearing, however, for he sends back a terse: _im in a meeting._

Newt rolls his eyes. _Good morning to u too,_ he texts back. _Most people are a bit cheerier when theyre picturing their bf giving them head._

Hermann’s responding text comes back just a _touch_ too quickly. _im not picturing anything of the sort._

The snorting sound that Newt makes into his cereal can probably be heard even at the far end of the Shatterdome dining hall. Newt cannot believe it. He and Hermann had never sexted before – they only got together a few months ago and haven’t been separated since then – but Hermann _totally thinks that Newt is trying to sext him right now._

 _Omg,_ he texts back, breakfast forgotten as he grins at his phone. _Ur actually picturing me giving u a blowjob during a meeting?? That’s amazing. How am i? the me in ur imagination, that is._

_he’s far more SILENT than ur being right now._

_Well of course, his mouth is a bit occupied u know_

Hermann doesn’t text Newt back after that and Newt shrugs. He turns back to his breakfast, figuring that Hermann finally just shut his phone off in order to ignore Newt.

Except, only a couple minutes later, Newt receives another text: _I had to excuse myself from the meeting, Newton. This is unacceptable._

 _Not my fault ur boner got in the way of breach physics discussions._ But- yeah, Newt didn’t mean to do it, but he can admit that it is a _little_ bit his fault. _Hey, im sry, man. ill make it up to u l8r._

_I think you’ll make it up to me now, actually. Perhaps by continuing to discuss that inappropriate mental image you sent me during my meeting._

Newt nearly chokes on his bite of cereal. Is Hermann trying to sext _him_ now? It should feel ridiculous – it _does_ feel ridiculous – but that doesn’t change the fact that Newt’s cock actually twitches at the prospect.

_Im at breakfast, but ill be in my room in a few minutes._

_Making me wait that long is rather unfair._

Newt’s mind goes blank for a moment, and then he frantically texts back: _im in the middle of the dining hall!!_

_And *I* was in a meeting, but that didn’t stop you._

A look around the dining hall reveals that there’s not too many people around – Newt always manages to be a bit late for breakfast. There’s no one sitting at his table, nor the tables adjacent to him. He _could_ do it…

Fucking hell. Hermann Gottlieb is going to kill him one day.

Newt looks around again to make sure that no one’s looking and places a palm against his clothed, quickly hardening cock. Texting one-handed while this _distracted_ is a bit of a challenge, but he manages: _ive been missing blowing u all week actually. U always pull my hair while I do it and it feels fucking amazing._

 _I can’t help it,_ Hermann texts back. _Your hair is…nice. And when your lips are around my cock, your cheeks hollowed out as you suck, it’s too tantalizing for me to *not* touch it._

Fuck. It just figures that Hermann is better at sexting than he is. Newt’s breath hitches as he rubs his palm harder against his jeans, going as fast as he can while still remaining discreet – which is not _nearly_ fast enough.

 _shit, sexting is harder than I thought it would be. It’s hard not to make any noises,_ Newt texts back.

A pause. And then: _maybe you should make some then._

Newt’s eyes widen. _Im just trying not to get caught jacking off in the dining hall and now u think I should add noises into the mix???_

The responding text is short, but Newt knows Hermann well enough to hear the hesitant want and intent behind the deceptively simple word: _yes._

_Omg. Ur so getting off on the fact that im in public rn!!_

_And you’re getting off reading my texts about your mouth around my cock. You started this in public, Newton, let’s finish it in public. And, if I recall correctly, when you finish you typically say my name. Rather loudly too._

Newt closes his eyes. He pictures Hermann right now, probably in his room or perhaps even in some toilet stall somewhere – hand around his cock, slickening it with his own spit and pretending it’s Newt’s mouth. They should probably talk about Hermann’s apparent exhibitionism kink sometime, but right now Newt’s mouth merely waters at the fact that Hermann is _this_ turned by what they’re doing. By just reading something that Newt texted him.

His pants feel confined and his palm against his crouch is _barely_ enough, but he keeps rubbing,unable to restrain himself from hitching his hips slightly into the movement.

 _Im close,_ he manages to text.

_Then say my name. I can see you now, biting your lip so that you don’t make a sound, looking around every few seconds to make sure no one is looking. but you know you want to say my name, that u want to *moan* it. the fact that ur in public just makes it even more tempting the prospect of getting caught is making it even harder for u to keep silent_

Okay, that last sentence might be Hermann projecting a little bit, but- _God yes,_ Newt wants to cry out Hermann’s name so badly, wants to moan it just as Hermann describes him doing so.

Most of all, he wants to be able to tell Hermann that that’s what he did – wants to see the satisfaction and lust on Hermann’s face when he describes to his face just how this morning went. So, grinding his palm against his cock, letting the pressure build until he feels like he’s going burst, feeling as though he may bite through his lip trying to keep quite, he allows himself to softly moan, _“Hermann”_ as he comes.

After an orgasm like that, it’s all Newt can do to discreetly catch his breath. He manages to keep his panting to a minimum, such so that anyone who happens to be looking at him right now might think that Newt is just chuckling at his phone.

Newt wishes, but his boyfriend is Hermann Gottlieb, so in reality, he’s panting orgasmically at his phone.

 _Omg,_ he texts.

_I take it you came then?_

_Came saying your name in a PUBLIC DINING HALL, you kinky bastard._

Hermann’s next text is hesitant. _Did you like it?_

Newt actually does chuckle at his phone at that. _God fucking help me, yeah I did._

_Good. Now as much as I’d like to figure out how post-coital sexting works, I have to go._

Newt smirks. _Back to ur meeting?_

_No, to my room. I’m going to feign sickness and not return to my meeting.  
_

_Omg. Did u come on ur pants, is that why ur not going back_

_…perhaps_

Newt’s laughs are scratchy and loud enough to turn several heads, but he’s too busy grinning at his phone to care. _That’s totally what u get u know. Sex karma_

_*You* started it, so you’re paying the dry cleaning bill on this ‘sex karma.’ And we still need to have a conversation about what is and what is not acceptable to text me during meetings._

Newt’s has a feeling that he’s going to enjoy that ‘conversation’ _very much._ So while his cereal has gone soggy and he still needs to figure out how to escape the dining hall with a wet patch currently cooling on the crotch of his jeans, this has turned out to be one of the better breakfasts he’s ever had.


	29. Hermann, You Filthy Exhibitionist 3 in 3D: Dinner Blow Jobs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Look, I don't know why Hermann can't control himself, but he just can't. Prompt: "trying to go down on the other, under the table, during dinner." Sexual content.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted 13 January, 2015.

The banquet is being held in order to show the UN’s appreciation of all the people who were with the PPDC until the very end.

Which would all be well and good except, a) the _UN_ wasn’t even with them until the very end so the whole thing stinks of politicking, b) Newt’s shirt tag keeps scratching at the base of his neck, and c) …well, Newt has decided to show his appreciation for Hermann’s services in a slightly _different_ way than the UN had intended tonight.

“You are supposed to be picking up the fork you dropped,” Hermann growls at him. “Not molesting me underneath the table!”

“I got _bored_ ,” Newt says, rubbing his face against Hermann’s thigh again. It’s not his fault if these speeches are going on _forever._ The prospect of touching Hermann’s warm skin _far_ outweighs the idea of listening to some UN bureaucrats talk about how great they are – so really, who could blame him for abandoning his fork in favor of investigating Hermann’s pants?

Still. It _is_ kind of Hermann’s night and all. It’s the first time he’s being officially recognized for his work on breach physics since he made his initial discoveries. And Newt is _proud_ that he’s being recognized, proud of his husband, so he won’t mess around and make Hermann miss this speech.

“Okay, I’ll stop,” Newt sighs, getting ready to crawl out from underneath the table.

“Er…”

Newt stops moving and raises an eyebrow at the oddly _reluctant_ silence that’s coming from above. “Unless you _do_ want me to keep going,” he murmurs, leaning in to nuzzle Hermann’s thigh again.

Hermann coughs delicately. “This speaker rather _is_ carrying on…”

“You _deviant_ ,” Newt breathes, fumbling to undo the zip of Hermann’s trousers.

“You’re the one who started to _mouth my crotch_ after dropping a fork: clearly it is _you_ who is the deviant.” Hermann hisses. “I’m merely going along with this.”

 _The mathematician doth protest too much,_ Newt thinks, when he pulls out Hermann’s cock only to find it fully hard already. _This_ shouldn’t take long.

The whole thing is kind of uncomfortable, if Newt’s being honest. The hardwood floor digs into his knees, his neck has a crick in it before he’s even started, and Hermann keeps kneeing Newt in the arm any time Newt makes a sudden movement. Simply put, Newt has sadly reached the age where he’s too a bit too old be giving blow jobs under the dinner table.  

But _oh_ , does Newt love this. He loves the stretch of his jaw as he puts his lips around Hermann, the hot slide of Hermann’s dick inside his mouth, the way Hermann’s breath catches when Newt uses just the barest hint of teeth. There isn’t time for teasing – not here, not with the speech due to be over in only a few minutes – but Newt loves doing it this way too, fast and sloppy and relentless.

He moans around Hermann’s cock and Hermann knees him again – probably on purpose this time, because yeah, they should at least _try_ to be discreet about their public sex right now. Newt stifles a giggle and pulls off just long enough to kiss the pale skin of Hermann’s thigh.

“Love you,” he breathes.

“Oh Newton,” Hermann murmurs. One of his hands moves underneath the tablecloth to hold Newt’s hand.

The addition of Hermann’s fingers against his own makes it a bit harder to balance, but Newt wouldn’t give them up for anything. Still, the clock is ticking, so Newt can only squeeze the hand in warning before taking Hermann to the hilt.

Newt hears Hermann’s muffled groan, covered by a fake, hacking cough, and he smiles around his mouthful. He lets his jaw go lax and sucks hard and fast. He’s not in a position to give anything resembling finesse, but it’s warmth and it’s friction and it’s exactly enough to bring Hermann over the edge. Soon the bitter hint of pre-cum against Newt’s tongue becomes several spurts as Hermann comes into Newt’s mouth. Thankfully, they’ve managed to time Hermann’s orgasm so that any sound the other man makes is masked by applause as the speaker finally finishes their oratory.

Newt carefully swallows, making sure that none of it gets onto his clothing. He can’t help but gently kiss the tip of Hermann’s cock before tucking it away.

“Is the coast clear?” he whispers.

“Yes,” Hermann says, his voice only slightly strained despite the thorough attention he’d just received.

Newt pats Hermann’s knee and – after finally picking up the fork he dropped – gets out from under the table.

“Found it,” he says, holding the fork up for Hermann to see.

Hermann chuckles. His smile is bright and his cheeks are flushed as he looks at Newt. “I hope you had a pleasant time looking for it,” he teases.

A passing waiter takes note of Newt’s reappearance at the table and – seeing that Newt is one of the honorees — politely says to him, “Would you like another serving of dessert, sir?”

Newt shakes his head. “Nah, I’m good. I ate a _lot_ already.”

The innuendo slips past the waiter, but Hermann nearly chokes on the sip of water he’s taking. As the waiter walks away, Hermann glares at Newt.

“How was the speech?” Newt says innocently.

Hermann huffs. “A bit slow at first,” he says after a pause. He shoots Newt a wicked smile. “But I suppose it, ah, ‘came’ along rather well at the end.

Newt snorts, and it’s not long before they’re both laughing loudly enough for people several tables over to shoot them dirty glances. But shit: the apocalypse is over, Newt just gave Hermann Gottlieb of all people public sex, and now the very same man is making _innuendo_ -filled comments. Newt thinks that those reasons more than entitle them to have a good laugh together.


	30. Emergency Lab Showers Are NOT for Sex (Just Kidding, They Totally Are)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompts: grinding up against the other and being drenched whilst wearing white. In which Newt and Hermann take an emergency lab shower that soon turns QUITE STEAMY B-) Sexual content, obviously.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted 14 January, 2015.

“I-”

“I’m not speaking to you at the moment.”

“But-”

“ _Not. Speaking.”_

Newt sighs and shivers under the harsh spray of the safety shower. Cause _one_ lab accident and suddenly you get the silent treatment, he sees how it is. Of course, Hermann is exceptionally _bad_ at giving the silent treatment, so it’s only a matter of seconds before the man speaks up again.

“Your clothes are supposed to be off,” Hermann says imperiously. “This is a decontamination shower, and if you do not follow the proper rules-”

“Jesus Christ, Hermann. Yeah, those rules make sense for an actual lab accident, but-”

“What do you mean _actual_ labaccident?” Hermann says icily.

Newt pushes up his glasses. They’re soaked and nearly useless by now. With the shower spray finally dying down, he grabs a handkerchief off of a nearby table and begins wiping off the water from his glasses.

“Uh…well that accident alarm has been buggy for years – you remember how it went off last month – so I decided to try and fix it, and…I _tried_ to tell you it wasn’t an actual emergency, but you weren’t listening!”

“Maybe because I was too busy trying to _save_ us from a potential lab accident,” Hermann growls.

Fair enough, and on any other day Newt’s sure he’d be grateful for Hermann’s quick thinking. But today he’s just soaked, and uncomfortably distracted by the fact that Hermann is clad only in his undershirt and underwear.

His… _white_ undershirt and underwear. Which really leave _nothing_ to the imagination when wet.  The undershirt clings to Hermann’s thin frame, his bony shoulders and flat pectoral muscles. Newt finds his eyes drawn to the beautiful planes of Hermann’s chest, the peak of the other man’s nipples standing out in stark relief against pale skin and white, wet fabric. They’re hard, Newt notices somewhat hysterically, from the cold of the lab and he wonders what it would be like if he were to kiss and lick warmth back into them-

Hermann sighs. “You’re ogling me.”

Newt flushes, casts his eyes downward. Is he really that obvious? Has Hermann always known about his crush, and just hadn’t let on because he didn’t want to embarrass Newt?

“Sorry,” Newt squeaks, mortified. “Won’t happen again.”

“I, ah…oh, to hell with it. I wouldn’t mind if it did,” Hermann says. His last sentence is slow, deliberate. When Newt glances at him in shock, the other man is tense and his eyes are closed.

“You wouldn’t?” Newt asks. He winces at how tentative the question sounds, but it’s met with equal hesitation on Hermann’s end – no clothes or arguments to hide what they’re feeling now.

“If I’m not misreading things – and if I am then I’ve gone and _truly_ bollocksed this up – then- no, I wouldn’t,” Hermann says.

“If you’re reading me ogling your chest as me having a huge crush on you and thinking you’re really hot, then yep, that’s about the right reading,” Newt says. Perhaps it’s reckless of him to spew it all out there like that, to throw his affection at Hermann and hope that the other man catches it, but-

But then Hermann grins. It’s a smile that lights up his whole face, that is so sincere and earnest that it stops Newt’s heart in its tracks. Newt’s whole being aches just looking at that smile.

“Good,” Hermann says, smiling at Newt with that relieved, unshakeable grin. “That’s- that’s very good.”

“And…could I read you staring at my chest right now to mean the same thing?” Newt asks. Now that he’s looking at Hermann’s face, he’s noticing for the first time how Hermann’s eyes keep catching on Newt’s own chest.

Newt’s dress shirt is also white, and he can see how Hermann’s eyes are drawn to the tattoos bleeding through the soaked fabric.

“Yes,” Hermann says softly. He trails a hand down Newt’s chest, staring at the colorful splashes of ink there. “Yes, that would also be a correct reading.”

“Awesome,” Newt says. And then he can’t wait a moment longer, he has to pull Hermann in for a kiss. He means for the kiss to be sweet more than anything else, but with their chests beneath each other’s hands, finally free for exploration, it’s not long before the light pecks turn into sharp nips and deep moans.

“Christ,” Newt pants, pulling away.

“Yes,” Hermann breathes. His eyes are dark and filled with want as he cards a hand through Newt’s dripping hair. Newt smiles and leans in to press a kiss to Hermann’s chest, but in the process he accidentally looks down and-

Well. Wet tighty whities _really_ don’t leave anything to the imagination. Hermann’s cock is hardly even covered by the transparent fabric – Newt can see _exactly_ how flushed it is, how hard. The sight of Hermann Gottlieb – stuffy, uptight Hermann Gottlieb – with his dick straining against his soaking underpants for _Newt_ isn’t something Newt could’ve come up with in his wildest dreams. Newt thinks he wheezes at the sight.

“There is an inequity here,” Hermann growls once he notices Newt ogling. Though his tone is more teasing than truly irritated. “Either take off your trousers too or get some self-control.”

And- yeah, that latter one is just not going to happen. Not when Hermann’s dick actually _twitches_ under Newt’s stare. Not when Hermann’s member pulls deliciously against the fabric, when the head peeks out swollen and _leaking_.

Newt’s not sure he’s ever taken his pants off faster. “Oh, oh yeah, I should maybe mention, I don’t have a-” he remembers to say, gesturing impatiently between Hermann’s cock and his own underpants.

Hermann shakes his head. “I don’t care what genitals you possess, just as long as you get them closer to _mine._ ”

Newt is _more_ than happy to oblige. He presses his hips to Hermann’s, delighting in the small gasp the other man lets out as Newt grinds against him. Newt grins and makes sure to move in small, _agonizing_ circles around Hermann’s cock.

“Like that?” he murmurs. He kisses the base of Hermann’s throat and presses them closer together yet again.

“You were always going to be my professional ruin, Dr. Geiszler,” Hermann huffs, his breath hitching as Newt grinds against him yet again. “Now it seems you’ll be my _personal_ ruin as well.”

“Ditto,” Newt says, though in truth, he’s kind of _always_ known that Hermann would be his personal ruin. But he’s far too distracted to come up with the words for the magnetism that exists between himself and Hermann. He’s too caught up in the delicious pull of hips against hips, how if Newt angles himself _just_ right, Hermann’s cock rubs against him in a way that shoots fireworks across Newt’s skin.

“So good,” Newt slurs, nipping Hermann’s neck – because it’s there, because he _can._ “Oh man, our first time is shitty lab sex and it’s _still_ this good, I knew we’d be dynamite in bed together.”

“I think _everybody_ knew that,” Hermann pants. His hips move faster and faster against Newt’s, in movements that become more erratic with each passing second. His cock is still trapped within his soaked underpants, strained and looking _achingly_ hard within its confines. The very sight makes Newt’s body  _yearn_ with want, and he grinds himself harder and faster against Hermann until the other man comes moaning Newt’s name.

“Christ that was hot,” Newt breathes. He shoves his fingers inside his own boxers to stroke himself while he watches Hermann catch his breath. The sight of Hermann, panting and flushed, his wet fringe dripping into his eyes, pushes Newt even closer to the edge, and Newt’s breath hitches as his fingers slip against himself.

Hermann grins at him. “May I?” he says, placing his fingers gently against Newt’s wrist.

“Oh God, _please._ ”

Hermann replaces Newt’s fingers with his own and touches him with a reverence that takes Newt’s breath away. With all that delightfully focused friction, with Hermann’s steady strokes and unwavering attention, it’s not long before Newt comes with a shout into Hermann’s hand.

“How was that for ‘shitty lab sex?’” Hermann says smugly.

Newt laughs. The sound is breathy and hitched and the epitome of post-orgasmic. “Uh, pretty amazing. You know, for shitty lab sex and all.”

“Hmm. Perhaps we’ll have to try again at another venue then,” Hermann says. “See if we can do even better.” His tone is playful, but the kiss he places on Newt’s forehead is so tender and affectionate that it makes Newt’s heart seize.

“Looking forward to it,” Newt says, putting his hands on Hermann’s cheeks and pulling him in for a proper kiss.


	31. Camp Counselors AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: having a wet dream and calling the other’s name during it. In which Hermann and Newt are both camp counselors, and Hermann is hardcore pining. Sexual content.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted 14 January, 2015.

Hermann _really_ dislikes his co-counselor. Newt is sloppy, he’s loud, he likes to _laugh_ at Hermann. He’s absent-minded around the children they’re in charge of this summer. So Hermann dislikes him, and dislikes the fact that they were paired together during their camp counselor orientation. That’s all there is to it.

Except the kids always _giggle_ when he and Newt bicker, and the senior counselors keep smiling indulgently at them when they think Hermann’s not looking – like the whole thing is cute! Like Newt is not insufferable, like he doesn’t bother Hermann all day with his chatter, like he doesn’t continually stand too close to Hermann so that Hermann can smell the shampoo Newt uses…

Fucking hell, Hermann cannot stop thinking about that _blasted_ shampoo. He is so fucked.

 _I don’t even_ like _him,_ Hermann thinks desperately. He rolls over as best he can on his tiny mattress and tries once again to get comfortable for the night. It’s never easy: the bed is lumpy and small, and their cabin is always too hot. But he can hear Newt’s soft snores coming from the bunk across the room and somehow that allows him to sink into the mattress with a yawn.

The problem is that Hermann kind of _does_ like Newt. Newt is messy and loud and all of those other things, but he also _smiles_ at Hermann – like he’s happy to see Hermann, like he wants to work with him. And yes, Newt is absent-minded around the children, but his unbridled enthusiasm also never fails to liven up some of their duller days at camp. And when he and Hermann work together, they work _well,_ they move around the arts and crafts table like they’re doing a dance and-

And who could blame Hermann for wanting that dance to continue past their working hours?

Hermann closes his eyes. It’s inappropriate, he knows – they’re co-workers and Hermann isn’t even _out_ here – but…he wishes he could touch Newt, even if it were just to hold his hand. All throughout the day, Newt will unthinkingly Hermann with casual touches that leave him _aching._ Newt had nudged his arm earlier today, trying to get his attention, and Hermann’s skin _still_ prickles with heat at the thought of that brush of skin against skin.

Hermann shifts onto his stomach. He finally feels his mind drifting off, aided by the memory of Newt’s warm, comforting hands. And…perhaps he takes certain liberties with his thoughts, as he succumbs to sleep. Allows himself to imagine those warm, confident hands touching him elsewhere. Hermann feels the same burning ache in his abdomen that he gets whenever he sees Newt changing shirts for the day, but he’s sure that Newt’s hands could dispel it for him if only-

If only it were possible. Newt would be so gentle. He’s selfish, outspoken, and even rude, but he’s always known just how to tread around Hermann: when to step quietly and treat Hermann with care, and when to stomp his feet in search of an argument that he knows Hermann needs. He would be the same way with his touches. Gentle when Hermann wants to be cared for, rough when Hermann can’t stand anything else.

Hermann can feel the tug of Newt’s lips on his own, the light pull of Newt’s hands in his hair, and he _sighs._

“Newt,” he moans, his stomach light and fluttery as the other boy laughs into his mouth in response.

“What now?”

Hermann frowns. Newt’s voice seems too _loud_ all of a sudden. It’s accusatory, irritated, not fitting with the scene Hermann’s so carefully established. Within seconds, those easy touches and kisses slip from Hermann’s fingers, despite his frantic attempts to hold onto them; his body feels overheated and clammy rather than warm and electric as it did under Newt’s touch.

Hermann wakes up with a start to find himself sweaty and entangled in his cold – oh fucking hell – _wet_ sheets.

“Well?”

Hermann blinks, only to find Newt’s face right next to his bunk. The other boy is looking at Hermann expectantly.

“What?” Hermann says, face flushing as he realizes exactly what it is that just happened — shit shit _shit._ He pulls the covers closer around himself, desperately hoping that Newt won’t investigate further. Hermann’s pretty sure he would _die_ of embarrassment if Newt caught him having a wet dream.

“What do you mean ‘what?’ You said my name! I assume I was doing _another_ thing that annoyed you, you-”

Hermann said Newt’s name? He doesn’t recall doing that. Unless it- oh God, unless it was in his sleep. While he was having his, er, rather _dynamic_ dream.

 _You moaned his name in your sleep?_ Hermann chides himself. He wishes he could sink through his bed and into the floorboards if only so he wouldn’t have to face this realization. _How far gone can you get?_

Thank _God_ Newt doesn’t suspect, probably too slowed down by his lack of coffee.

Still struggling to wake up, Hermann forces exasperation into his voice and grumbles, “Well if you’d stop being so _loud_ in the morning, perhaps I wouldn’t have cause to reprimand you about it.”

Newt rolls his eyes. “As much of a morning person as ever I see. Get up already, we’ve got kids to entertain!”

“You go on ahead,” Hermann says, painfully aware of his wet trousers. He tries not to flush. “I’ll be down in a moment.”

Newt shrugs. “Whatever. Just don’t fall back asleep, okay?” It’s not the first time Hermann has tried to catch a few more minutes of shut eye, and thankfully Newt seems to assume that this is the case now.

Oh, _if only_ that were it.

When Newt finally leaves and the coast is clear, Hermann sighs and looks distastefully down at his damp sheets. Well _this_ is a new development, isn’t it?


	32. Hickies: A Great Cure to Pre-Wedding Jitters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: pining the other against a wall and leaving hickeys on the other’s neck, with some sub!Hermann thrown in there. In which Newt and Hermann get a bit excited the night before their wedding. Sexual content.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted 15 January, 2015.

“Not _now_ ,” Hermann says sternly. Or tries to say sternly – it’s a _little_ bit difficult to be stern with Newt when he’s like this: so playful, so eager and _happy_ as he presses himself against Hermann.

“I don’t see why not,” Newt whispers. He’s trying too hard to make his voice sound ‘sexy’ – Hermann can _tell_ when he’s trying to hard – but damn it if the scratchy pitch still doesn’t send shivers down Hermann’s spine.

“Tomorrow is our _wedding day_ ,” Hermann says, but the words come out more giggle than anything else. He cannot help it. Happiness bubbles up inside him, fills his limbs to the brim because he’s finally able to _say_ those words. “I can’t have a hickey during my own wedding.”

“I can be discreet,” Newt says indignantly. “It’ll be low.”

“My dress has a _low_ neckline.”

But really- Hermann _does_ want it. Ever since they started having sex, Newt will leave little marks on Hermann: small nips to his stomach, the tiniest scratch of nails across Hermann’s back. Nothing big or noticeable – but they both know how much Hermann delights in that miniscule ache that results afterward. Waking up, stretching out beside Newt, seeing those small marks on his own chest, knowing that _Newt_ made them — it leaves a buzzing thrill in his belly that stays with him all day.

And on the rare occasions those marks  _are_ a bit more noticeable – almost always in the form of a hickey – Hermann _luxuriates_ in their presence. He loves way the bruise stands out against his pale skin, the way it serves as a reminder of the fact that Newt’s attention — that single-minded, focused attention — is spent so lavishly on Hermann that it makes his breath catch. He wants one of those bruises for tomorrow too.

Hermann sighs, feigning reluctance. “A _small_ one,” he allows. “Make sure it’s where the lace will hide it.”

Newt’s resulting grin is so bright that Hermann cannot help but mirror it.

Newt kisses Hermann slowly, sweetly, pulling away every now and then to give Hermann’s cheeks or nose a peck. Hermann pants into Newt’s mouth as Newt playfully tugs at Hermann’s lower lip with his teeth. 

Licking his way into Hermann’s mouth, making him mewl and pant with the intensity of their kisses, Newt carefully locks his hands around Hermann’s wrists and presses them against the wall.

“Is this good?” Newt says, rubbing a calloused thumb across Hermann’s forearm.

Hermann hums happily. Newt’s grip is firm, but not tight, and the warmth of his hold on Hermann is _delicious._ “Perfect.”

Newt pulls back ever so slightly, just enough to glance at Hermann’s pinned wrists. He smiles softly, then shifts his gaze in order to meet Hermann’s eyes. Newt’s own eyes are wide and dark, reverent as they seemingly try to drink in Hermann all at once.

“I love you,” Newt marvels. “God, you’re basically the best datemate ever. And tomorrow you’ll be the best _spouse_ ever, oh my God, I can’t believe this.”

Neither can Hermann. His heart swells, light and hot and overflowing in his chest, until he feels as though he could burst. “Neither can I,” he gasps as Newt finally begins to nip at his neck.

Newt makes low, wanton sounds as he licks and sucks and bites at Hermann’s neck, drawing out each tender movement as he marks Hermann’s skin. Each shift of Newt’s tongue and teeth against him sends lightning throughout Hermann’s body until he’s practically trembling from so much sensation.

“N-Newton,” he pants. “Foreplay is all well and good, but-”

Newt laughs and pulls off obligingly. “But you’re a horny bastard and want to come already?” he breathes into Hermann’s ear.

Hermann can hear the smirk and responds with one of his own. “Because I’d like to come _sometime_ before tomorrow, if you’re not too busy watching me squirm.”

Newt laughs again. He licks Hermann’s neck one last time and, with one last caress, releases Hermann’s wrists.

Hermann rubs his wrists carefully, though Newt was hardly holding them roughly enough to do any damage. He looks downward at himself, just able to see the colorful bruise already blossoming on his neck. He smiles as he stares at it, tracing his freed fingers across its breadth. “It’s lovely,” he murmurs. With a soft smile, he adds, “Though I think I shall prefer the ring.”

“Tomorrow you get to have both,” Newt giggles, bursting with eagerness, practically glowing with anticipation.

Hermann knows the feeling. He leans in to give Newt another kiss that quickly deepens until soon they’re lying on the bed, laughing and smiling into their caresses. Yes, tomorrow Hermann will have _both._ He can’t wait.


	33. Gotta Love Dick Jokes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not a prompt fill, but a horrendous dick joke that wouldn't leave my mind. I'm so sorry, Hermann. Sexual content within.

“Hello, _Doctor_ ,” Newt murmurs as he slowly pulls Hermann’s boxers down. Newt noses against his thigh and Hermann gives a satisfied hum.  
  
“So it takes getting you into bed for you to use my title, does it?” he says teasingly.

“Huh? Oh, not you. I’m talking to the _Doctor_ ,” Newt says, before pressing a kiss to Hermann’s-

Hermann sighs. “My penis,” he says flatly. “You won’t call _me_ by my title, but you will call my _penis_ -”

His protests give way to moans as Newt takes the tip of Hermann’s cock into his mouth.  
  
“Doctor, doctor, give me the news,” Newt sings around his mouthful, and fucking hell Hermann is going to _murder him-_  
  
…As soon as they’re through here, because Newt’s started doing that delightful thing with his tongue and Hermann is _not_ about to interrupt that. Even if Newt is still humming that dreadful song.


	34. Hermann Wears Short Skirts, I Wear Sneakers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "the skirt is short on purpose." In which Newt buys Hermann a skirt and they both admire it (and each other). Sexual content.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted 15 July, 2015.

“Oh my God,” Hermann says. Which isn’t an _unusual_ thing for him to say while Newt’s hand is in his tights, but he’s not saying it for the usual reasons. 

Newt grins. “I know right? I’m pretty good.”  
  
“That’s not what I’m-” Hermann moans as Newt gently circles his clit – far too slowly, _far_ too teasingly, and alright, yes, Newt _is_ pretty good. But that’s not what Hermann is talking about. 

“Y-you bought me this skirt just so that you could easily get into my pants, didn’t you?” Hermann says, panting as Newt twists his fingers in a way that sends waves of pleasure down Hermann’s spine. 

“What! No! Well…yeah. Okay, I totally did.”

Hermann wants to roll his eyes. The skirt in question is short. Not obscenely short, but much shorter than Hermann usually wears – it only goes down about mid-thigh. 

And Newt has been playfully sneaking his hands up it at every opportunity today. Which, admittedly, had made for a _lovely_ morning, and is currently making for a lovely evening.

Hermann smirks. “You don’t need an excuse to ogle my arse, Dr. Geiszler. You could have just _asked_.” 

Newt laughs, pausing his finger’s movements. Hermann, embarrassingly enough, _whines_ at the loss. He blushes, but decides it was well worth it when the sound makes Newt’s breath hitch.  
  
Newt moves his fingers again, leans in close to Hermann and places gentle kisses along his neck. 

“Give me some credit, Herms,” he says once he reaches Hermann’s ear. “Yeah, the skirt is short on purpose – duh it is, you look so fucking _hot_ in it. But I didn’t buy it just to feel you up. I bought it because you _liked_ it, you nerd.”

Hermann runs a hand along the skirt. He had liked it: brown and billowing and soft, it’d caught his eye in the shop. He’d put it back at first, because of the length, but Newt had encouraged him to purchase it. For sexual reasons, apparently, but also-

Also because he knew it would make Hermann _happy._  
  
“I like _you_ ,” Hermann murmurs against Newt’s skin. “I-I _love_ you.”

He shivers as Newt’s touches become more fervent, more frantic in response to Hermann’s words. He lifts his skirt higher to give Newt more access, gasping and moaning as Newt takes him apart, and decides that the skirt was a _truly_ excellent purchase. 


	35. Hate is a Strong Word (Love Would Fit Better)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for the prompts: “I wish I could hate you" and “Have I entered an alternate universe or did you really just crack a smile for me?” In which Newt and Hermann find out they don't hate each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted 1 September, 2015.

Newt Geiszler – breaker of mathematician hearts, investigator of the mysteries of the kaiju – argues with Hermann like it’s a substitute for breathing. And perhaps it is for him. After all, Newt hasn’t paused his tirade in order to draw breath in over thirty seconds.

Which is thirty seconds longer than Hermann would have liked to listen to this drivel. He sneers. “Oh please, Dr. Geiszler, _do_ go on. Tell me all about your pet drifting theory – as if you haven’t already told it to me a dozen times already. Though if you really want me to, I could give you the same response I did those _other_ times and tell you that it’s not going to work!”

Newt’s response is less of a counter-argument and more of a series of shrieking noises – it hasn’t been a great week for either of them. Hermann covers his ears with a wince. 

“Shut up!” Newt says. “Shut up! I don’t need you to condescend to me for the thirteenth time, I get it, you think I’m a moron. Fucking asshole, Jesus. God, sometimes I wish I could hate you, that would make this so much-”

Hermann doesn’t catch the end of that sentence, because his brain stutters to a halt at Newt’s words. _What_?

Newt must spot his confusion – and Hermann’s confusion must _really_ be apparent for Newt to spot when they’re both so worked up – for he stops himself and asks, “You okay, man? Because I’ve given you the same counter-argument literally twelve times, and if you don’t get it by now, I’d be a bit concerned for the future of K-Sci – well, what’s left of it…”

Hermann should probably jump on that: say that Newt’s theories make _him_ concerned for the future of K-Sci. Newt practically set up the insult for him. Perhaps he did so on purpose. If an argument is in danger of burning out but Hermann and Newt still feel restless, they will sometimes lob an easy shot to each other. Hermann should take this one now: it’s what Newt wants.

But instead, Hermann only runs his finger along the head of his cane and says, “You…you don’t hate me?”

Newt blinks, his eyes wide behind his glasses. “What?”  
  
Hermann blushes. “Never mind, it’s-”

“No, wait, wait. You think I hate you?”

Now Newt is the one who looks confused. His eyebrows are furrowed and he’s studying Hermann with an intensity of concentration normally saved for specimens. 

At the moment, Hermann would rather the specimens than _this_ awkward conversation. 

Hermann shrugs, trying to make the motion casual. He doubtlessly does not succeed. “You hardly spoke to me after we first met in person, Dr. Geiszler. You didn’t speak to me for _years._..And since I’ve arrived here, you insult and argue with me constantly. I can take a message.”

“Hermann…”

Hermann stiffens. He knows what pity sounds like, and it is _not_ something that he wants, especially not from-

“Don’t do that,” Newt says, grabbing Hermann’s sleeve before he can turn away. “Whatever you think I fucked up, I didn’t. Or…maybe I did, I don’t know, but whatever it is, I’m sorry.”

“Ignorant apology accepted. Let go of my sleeve.”

“God, you’re such an asshole sometimes. Can’t you see I’m trying-”

“Trying to what? Insult me yet again? Congratulations, Dr. Geiszler, it would seem you’ve succeeded-”

“I don’t hate you!” Newt yells. “Yeah, okay, I’m still angry about how things went when we met, sue me. It went shitty. It’s not like you ever spoke to _me_ after that either. And yeah, I’m probably taking all that out on you, but to be fair, I’m pretty sure you’re doing the same thing.”

“I…” Upon reflection, that’s probably true. Hermann’s capacity for bitterness is not something to be trifled with. 

“But come on…did you really think I hated you?”

Hermann frowns. Why is that such a difficult thing to believe? People have hated Hermann in the past, and there will doubtlessly be people who hate him in the future. Newt knows this, and has experienced it himself.

“Wait,” Newt says, interrupting whatever response Hermann may have come up with. “Do…do you hate me?” 

Hermann exhales. Looks briefly at Newt’s teeth worrying at his lip, then at the hair falling in front of Newt’s glasses. Bitterness and anger extinguish into an aching love, and he shakes his head. “No.”

Newt sighs in relief. “That’s…that’s good. To be honest, I don’t know what I’d do if you hated me.”

“Me…me neither, truth be told.”

“High fives for not hating each other then. Oh man. Dude. Did we just upgrade from colleagues-with-a-history to frenemies?” Newt grins. When Hermann snorts, Newt’s grin only grows wider. 

“Have I entered an alternate universe or did you really just crack a smile for me?” Newt says. 

Hermann shakes his head, fully aware that his lips continue to tug upward despite himself. “Back to work, Dr. Gei—Newt,” he says firmly. Hermann doesn’t bother hiding his still-widening smile when Newt pats him on the back before returning to his specimens.


	36. Hermann is Jealoooous

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for the prompt: “Wait a minute. Are you jealous?” In which the drift doesn't always cure jealous (but hugs do).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted 1 September, 2015. I'm marking the story as complete because I far prefer the aesthetic of that to the "36/? chapters" that would show up otherwise, but that doesn't necessarily mean no more fills will end up here :)

There’s a lot of things that Newt wants to bring up in the wake of their drift. He wants to talk about Hermann’s burning desire to bone Newt, for one. That one should probably take priority, and then they should maybe talk about the sad childhood memories sometime after said boning actually occurs. 

But instead, Newt just sputters, “You were jealous of _ranger guy_? Becket?”

Hermann sighs – like he’d rather talk about the boning as well, but he’s not entirely surprised that Newt’s gotten sidetracked. Still, he grumbles, “I was not _jealous_ -”

“We _drifted_ , dude. I can’t believe you’re trying to deny it when I literally just felt how jealous you were.”

“I just don’t think jealous is the proper _word_ ,” Hermann demurs. Newt does his best not to laugh out loud, and is rewarded when Hermann adds, “You were _bickering_ with him. And trying to flirt with him.”

“Flirt _badly._ And I bicker and flirt with a lot of people,” Newt points out. “Mostly you, in case you hadn’t noticed.”

Hermann smiles. It’s shy and secret, something that Newt finally gets to treasure and hoard, here in their lab. They wandered here in the wake up the _holy fuck we’re not dead_ party that shakes the walls even from the other side of the Shatterdome. They wandered here to find peace, quiet, each other. 

And to explore Hermann’s raging jealousy boner, apparently. 

“You were jealooous,” Newt teases, and is rewarded with a light tap to the legs with Hermann’s cane. Newt could’ve avoided the blow even without the connection that still thrummed happily between them, but he doesn’t bother. Not when he can feel Hermann’s amusement humming in his own mind. 

“Like you’ve never been attracted to a pilot,” Newt says, and winces when impressions of the Kaidanovskys flash through Hermann’s mind. “Shit. Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Hermann says softly. After a moment, he reaches his arms out for Newt, trusting Newt to slide into them as if this is something they’ve always done. Newt complies, sighing in relief when their connection sings anew at the contact. 

Hermann rubs a hand down Newt’s back and seizes the fabric there. “You’re safe,” he murmurs against Newt’s hair. “Thank _God_.”

“We’re both safe.” Newt buries his head in Hermann’s neck and inhales: sweat, damp, chalk, lavender. And a scent that’s uniquely _Hermann_ , something pleasant and buzzing that lights up every part of Newt’s brain. 

They probably still need to talk about the boning. Or at least have this platonic-but-not-really cuddle fest on a sofa or something. But for now, Newt’s content to simply be in Hermann’s arms. In a short while, they’ll move this conversation elsewhere, and longer after that, they’ll join the festivities and Newt will tease Hermann about this some more. But now, Newt only rubs his cheek against Hermann’s chest, smiling when Hermann hugs Newt closer in response.


End file.
